


The Agent

by Ladybughanlen



Series: The Agent [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybughanlen/pseuds/Ladybughanlen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Sam is wealthy widower John Winchester's only son.  He's been abducted more then once and all he wants is a normal life.  Dean Campbell is hired to watch over him and hopefully give Sam the freedom he deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The receptionist looks up and smiles.  “He’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you Ms. Kerns.”  Dean smiles back.  

He straightens his tie and squares his shoulders.  He’s heard Director Robert Singer lecture at the Academy and shaken his had at graduation like all cadets, but he’ never met him in private before.  The Director is a legend and he finds himself a little intimidated. 

Dean knocks once and waits.  

“Get in here Campbell.”  The Director growls.  

Dean opens the door and steps inside.  The place is a madhouse of folders, books, and paperwork.  It feels chaos about to burst forth.  It’s a bit of a surprise, but no one in the Bureau has a more stellar record of arrests and convictions so the mess clearly isn’t a problem.

“Good to see you Campbell.”  The Director looks up from his computer.  “Have a seat.”

“Thank you Sir.”  Dean nods and sits on the edge of a stiff leather chair in front of the imposing wooden desk.

“Relax Campbell.”  Director Singer chuckles.  “You ain’t in trouble boy.”

Dean leans back in the chair and raises an eyebrow.  He’s had a few run-ins with a tight assed supervisor or two in his first six months at the Bureau, but he knows that he’s developed a reputation as an excellent profiler and he’s not terrible in the field either.   

Director Singer gives him the once over and chuckles again.  “Cocky…I like it.”

Dean flushes, but holds his eyes. 

Director Singer nods.  “I might have a job for you.”

Dean wants to jump at it, no questions asked.  He’s worked a dozen ‘Cold Cases’ but he’s only been back-up agent on a few active ones.  He’s learned a lot and he’s ready for a case of his own.  He badly wants to prove himself.

“It’s a sensitive case.”  The Director warns.  

“I understand Sir.”  He tries not to sound too eager.

“It won’t be flashy…and I hope to God there won’t be any fame or glory.”  

Dean huffs.  He knows that most investigations are hard work and long hours.  He’s never been after fame or glory.  All he’s ever wanted to do is investigate crimes and analyze the behavior of those who perpetrate them.  

“I’m here to serve the Bureau Sir.”  He finally says.  

The Director lifts a skeptical brow.  “It’ll be undercover…long term.”

Dean nods again.  He’s on his own with no ties.  Better for a guy like him to take this kind of job then a family man.  With no one to reach back for it eliminates distractions and the less complicated the cover story the easier it is to pass muster.

Director Singer leans back and studies him again.  

Dean sits patiently.  He knows that there is no way a rookie agent like him is up for a job like this unless it requires something only he can provide.  He’s a solid strategist and an expert marksman, but most agents are so that’s nothing special.  It has to be something else, but exactly what he can’t imagine.

“Alright.”  Director Singer sighs.  “Take this.”

Dean reaches out and accepts the plain white envelope.

“Don’t open it until you get home.”  The Director warns.  “There are instructions to an interview location inside.  The man you’re going to meet is…well…”  He rubs his face.  “He’s his own man.  He’s also a friend of the Bureau and a damn good buddy of mine so….”  

“I won’t embarrass you Sir.”  Dean tries to sound confident against the sudden rush of nervousness.  

“I know that boy.”  Director Singer snorts.  “I didn’t pick your name out of a hat you know.”  

Dean blushes and opens his mouth to apologize.

The Director raises a hand to interrupt.  “I want you to understand that you don’t have to take this job.”

Dean frowns.  

“This man can be very…intense and I don’t want you to feel like you have to take the job or else.”  The Director grimaces.  “You have a solid future here and the this thing well…”  He rubs his face again.  “It could be your life for a long time…so just promise me you’ll think it over before you jump in head first.  Okay Son?”

Dean swallows hard and nods.  “Yes Sir.”

“The interview is on Saturday afternoon so close out anything you’re working on by Friday.”

“Yes Sir.”  

“If you decide against the job…and its okay if you don’t want it Son.”  The Director gives him a pointed look.  “Then be back to work on Monday.  No questions asked.” 

The envelope in Dean’s hand suddenly feels like it weighs a ton.  “I understand Sir.” 

The Director stands abruptly.

Dean jumps to his feet.

“If you decide to take the job I won’t see you again for…well a long while I expect.”  The Director holds out his hand and smiles.  “So in case I don’t see you again…”  

Dean smiles back and shakes his hand.  

“You take care of yourself Boy.”  

“I will.”  Dean pledges.  “Thank you for the opportunity Sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stuffs the envelope into his pocket and nods absently at Ms. Kerns as he passes.  He steps into the elevator and selects his floor.  He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks back to his small cubicle in a daze. 

No one says anything to him along the way.  No one asks him where he’s been or what the Director wanted.  No one even looks up from their desks.  

He reaches his space and plops into the chair.  He leans back and sighs heavily.  He can’t decide whether to be excited or apprehensive.  He shakes his head and gets back to work. 

Three days later he opens the door to his tiny apartment and the first thing he sees is the white envelope.  He’d come home on the day the Director had given it to him and hung it on the fridge.  He’s made himself wait to open it.  

Dean takes a shower and puts on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.  He fixes himself some left over fried chicken and coleslaw.  He sits down at his battered dinette set and eats mindlessly, his eyes on the envelope.

He washes the dishes, finishes his beer, and snatches the envelope from the fridge.  He takes it outside to his mini-balcony and sits down.  He stares into space and contemplates the possibilities.  

The sun is setting by the time he finally slips a finger under the tightly sealed flap and opens it up.  A business card and a single sheet of paper are all that’s inside. 

He examines the card first.  It’s white with basic black lettering.  There is one name printed across the middle and a toll free phone number below that.  

“John.”  He reads the card out loud and frowns.  There must be a couple of million ‘Johns’ in the world.  He drops the card back in the envelope and pulls out the paper.  

“Mac’s Deli on 2nd Street.  Pick up lunch.”  The letter tells him.  The time and date is listed clearly.  “Drive the route indicated and stop at the corner of 112th and Madison.”  

Dean squints at the miniature map of downtown.  He’s been through the area before and knows roughly where to go.  The route is full of unnecessary turns and back tracks that are obviously designed to identify an unwanted tail.  Anyone looking to follow him tomorrow will have a hard time keeping up without being noticed.  

“Dress casual.  Jeans and a t-shirt.  I’ll be in the Yankees hat.”  The note tells him.  That’s it.  Nothing more.  

The following morning Dean pushes past his new suits to the back of the closet for a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt that isn’t thread bare.  He digs out a worn pair of boots, straps on his shoulder holster, and adds a baggy flannel shirt to cover it.  He checks his look in the mirror and decides it will have to do.

Dean pulls up to the curb at Mac’s Deli twenty minutes later.  He’s about to get out of the car when a pleasant looking white haired man shoves his way out the front door.  He’s followed immediately by a sullen teenager.  The teenager jogs ahead, grabs the back passenger door, and yanks at it.   

Dean sucks in a breath.  No one touches his Baby without permission.  He turns to glare at the kid.

The kid rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.  

Dean sighs, reaches back, and unlocks the door.  

The kid jerks the door open and heads back to the restaurant in a huff. 

Dean suppresses the need to yell after him.

“Here you go.”  The older man peeks inside and sets a green metal cooler he’s been carrying into the back seat.  “I added a little extra something to the meat cure this time.”  He grins.  “Let John know I’d love to hear his feedback.”

Dean has no idea what any of that means, but he knows how to keep a cover so he goes with it.    

“Will do.”  He grins back.  “Thanks Mac.”  He fishes a five dollar bill out of his pants and hands it to the man who waves him off.  

Dean shrugs.  “Give it to the kid for curbside service.” 

“He doesn’t deserve it.”  The man rolls his eyes.  “But thanks.”  He takes the money and closes the door with care.  

Dean gives him a friendly wave and he pulls away from the curb.

Traffic is light and he has no trouble making the prescribed twists and turns.  He keeps a casual eye on the rearview mirror and easily identifies two possible tail vehicles.  They switch off and on, but they are definitely following him.   

He thinks about losing them and decides against it.  The note didn’t say anything about ditching a tail.  He follows the map precisely and arrives at the corner without incident.  

The man in a Yankees hat appears almost immediately at the side of the car.  He’s dressed in jeans, boots, and a worn leather jacket.  He bends down and smiles.

Dean smiles back and unlocks the door.  

The man drops into the front seat.  He settles into the leather with a sigh.

“Drive down to 120th, turn right then head for the North Hill’s Park and Recreation area.”  The man directs.    

“You got it.”  Dean pulls back into traffic.  “You’re ‘John’ I assume.”

“And you’re ‘Dean’.”  The man patiently replies. 


	3. Chapter 3

“I picked up a tail.”  Dean says casually a few minutes into the drive.

“Ya?”  John doesn’t seem at all surprised.  

“A red Honda civic and a beat up Toyota in primer grey.”

John nods and leans back in the seat.  He stretches his arm out along the window and tilts his head to watch the mirror for a moment.  “Good catch.” 

“Should I try and lose them?”

“Nope.  They’re mine.”

Dean shrugs.  He suspected as much.

John shifts in his seat.  “Damn Son.”  He flashes a grin.  “This is a sweet ride.”    

Dean grins and nods.

“How long have you had her?”

“I rescued her from a scrap yard when I was sixteen.”  

“Did you fix her up yourself?”

“Mostly.” 

Dean had just lost his folks and he’d moved in with Great Aunt Susan who, though she was as sweet as could be, just couldn’t seem to connect with the distraught teenager she’d taken home after the funeral.  He’d barely ate and slept even less.  

A few weeks after he’d arrived he’d come across an abandoned junk yard tucked just beyond the edge of Aunt Susan’s property line.  He’d clambered over the broken down fence and found the 1967 Chevy Impala waiting for him.  

She’d been parted out, but her body was still straight and she’d been buttoned up against the elements enough that her interior was in pretty good shape.  He’d run a hand across her hood and fell in love.  He’d raced home and told his Aunt Susan about his big plan.

In no time they’d had Baby dug out of the weeds and up on blocks in the barn.  Aunt Susan had indulged his new hobby with an understanding smile and Dean had found solace buried under the hood.  There’s no doubt in his mind that the project had saved them both from despair.       

“It took me longer then I planned.”  Dean admits.  “But four years later she was ‘Back in Black’.”

“Damn.”  The older man chuckles.  “She’s a fine piece of American Steel Son.  You’ll do well to keep her that way.”

“Only the best for my Baby.”  

John laughs.  His pleasant baritone fills the car.

Dean shoots a glance at the man.  “So…AC/DC fan huh?”  

“Definitely.”  John replies with a grin. 

They spend the next hour debating the merits of classic rock bands in general and Zeppelin in particular.  

When they reach their destination John gives him directions to a day park and Dean backs Baby into a parking spot under a large shade tree.  He hops out, adjusts his holster, and looks around.  It’s a nice location, secluded, but with a good field of view and a straight shot to the highway.  It will do.

John climbs out of the car and stretches.  He moves to the back and snags the cooler.  He puts it down on a nearby picnic table and opens it up.

The red Honda and the grey Toyota pull into the parking lot a few minutes later.  They take spaces in front and across.  Clearly they are on guard.  

John appears to take no notice of their arrival.  

Dean follows his lead and ignores them too.  He heads over to the table and peeks into the cooler.  There are two large sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil on top.   

“I hope you like Hot Pastrami.”  John picks one up and hands it to Dean.  

“Seriously?”  Dean takes the sandwich and gives it an exaggerated sniff. 

John chuckles and drops onto the bench with his back to the parking lot.

Dean takes the opposite seat, careful to ensure he can see each approach to the table.  He pulls his pistol and sets it on the table top.  He’s taking no chances.   

“Mac says he tried something new.”  Dean unwraps the sandwich as his stomach growls impatiently.  “He wants your take on his cure.”

John nods absently as he peels back the tinfoil and takes a huge bite.  

Dean follows suit.  The sandwich is sheer heaven.  He sighs.  “Awesome.”  

John grins.  “Mac’s a genius.”  He snags a Coke from the cooler and hands it to Dean.  He grabs another one, pops it open, and takes a long swig.  He burps hugely and grins.

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes.  He refuses to take the bait.  

“So tell me about yourself.”  John takes another large bite of sandwich and gives Dean a level look.

Dean opens his mouth to offer some short version of events and before he knows it he’s answered every question and then some.  

“Well that’s quite a tale.”  John teases.  “Thank you.”

Dean looks down at the table strewn with the remains of their feast and blushes.  They’ve worked their way through the sandwiches, all the different side dishes, a huge bag of chips, and two enormous pieces of Apple pie.  He’s shocked to realize he’s been babbling the whole time.

“Jesus…sorry.”  Dean is embarrassed to have said so much.  He hasn’t spoken to anyone about his life like that in a long time.  Not since he’d lost Great Aunt Susan.  

“For what?”  John looks genuinely surprised. 

“For…”  Dean shrugs.  “Spilling my guts like that.”

John’s eyes twinkle with amusement.  “You were supposed to Son.”

Dean blanches.  “Did I just fail a test?”

“No.”  John smiles kindly.  “You just passed one.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

John wipes his hands on a napkin and leans forward.  He rests his forearms on the table and squints at Dean. 

Dean straightens his shoulders and waits.

“I’m as rich as Midas.”  John announces matter-of-fact. 

Dean searches John’s face for a hint of bullshit.  There is none.    

“I have more power, more influence, more everything…”  John smiles ruefully.  “Then I could ever need.  But…”  His eyes go dark.  “There’s one thing I can’t do.”  

Dean blinks. 

“One thing I’ve tried and failed at repeatedly.”  John growls and leans back.  He takes his ball cap off and rubs his face.  He looks older now then he did a moment ago, somehow more worn.  

Dean waits.  

“I can’t protect my Son.”  John declares.  “No…”  He sighs heavily.  “I can protect him.  I just can’t do that and give him the freedom he needs.”  He lifts his head and frowns.  “Freedom to live his own life, become his own man.”

Dean looks at the man across from him for a long moment.  

John looks like any other Father.  A man who’s spent a lifetime loving and caring for a boy who’s suddenly grown up.  There’s something else there though and it looks a lot like guilt.    

“Okay.”  Dean gives him a sympathetic smile.  “So your kid wants to be free.  Escape the bonds of constant security.”  He flicks a glance at the guards positioned around the small park.  “But you want him safe.”

John gives him a grateful look.  “Exactly.”

“Well…”  Dean takes a deep breath.  “I think you’ve got the wrong man.  I’ve worked hard to get where I am.  I’m an investigator, a profiler.  I want to stop criminals and help people who need it not…”

John raises a challenging eyebrow.  “Babysit some rich brat?”  

“Ya.”  Dean crosses his arms and stands his ground.  

“Don’t you want to know who he is first?”  John asks politely.  “Before you say ‘No’?”

The Director’s warning echoes in his brain.  Things are about to get serious.  Dean hesitates for a split second and nods.  

John looks at Dean long and hard.  He finally nods and says softly.  “Sam Winchester.”

Dean gulps.  “Jesus.”  He stands up and takes a turn around the small clearing on shaky legs.  

He stops with his back to the man still seated at the table and the professional security.  He looks up at the sky.  He can’t wrap his brain around how many cosmic twists and fateful turns had to occur in just the right order to bring him here to this spot, on this day, with this man.  

Dean shakes his head stubbornly.  He doesn’t want to believe what he’s heard.  It’s too much.  

“It’s true Son.”  John insists softly.  

“I studied this case at the Academy for Christ’s sake!”  Dean huffs and tries not to grind his teeth.  

“I know.”

“Four times?”  Dean turns and pins John with a glare.  “Four Fucking times!?”

John sucks in a breath and visibly controls his temper.  His mouth tightens.

Dean almost feels bad, but not quite.  “The first time?”  He grimaces.  “I almost get that one.”

John takes a casual swig of his Coke, but the tremor in his hands give shim away. 

Dean sighs and softens his tone.  “You’d just buried your wife and the Nanny was family right?  You should have been able to trust her.”  He shakes his head.  “Straight-A student.  No one even suspected that she had a drug habit.”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “You got him back in what?  Three hours?  That must have been some sort of record.”

John nods solemnly.

“The second time?  Those guys were idiots.”  Dean scoffs.  “They took him from the park, had him all afternoon, and then they take a kid who’s picture is splashed all over Headline News to McDonald’s!?”  

“Those two were…”  John shakes his head.  “Not all there.” 

“The ‘Dumb and Dumber’ of kidnappers?” 

John shrugs.  “I never believed it was an actual abduction attempt.” 

“They certainly didn’t fit the profile.”  Dean admits.  “They shared an Assisted Living apartment.  They had no motive.  Made no demands.”  He shrugs.  “You really think they were just helping a lost kid?  Like they claimed?”

“There wasn’t enough to even charge them.  I didn’t push it.  They got time served and they still live in that same apartment.  Never in trouble before or since.”  John says.  “I don’t think they had any idea who he was.”  He snorts.  “He told them his name was ‘Peter Parker’.”

Dean barks a laugh.  

“They let him run around and play on whatever he wanted at the park and when he got hungry they took him to McDonald’s.”  John smiles.  “He thought it was a big adventure and pestered me to take him back there every day for weeks after that.”   

“Really?” 

“Ya.”  John chuckles indulgently.  “He was four.”

Dean shakes his head.  He’s never stopped to look at it through the eyes of a four year-old before.  He gives John a bemused grin.  

“Hey.”  John laughs.  “He’s my Son and even I can’t explain him sometimes.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head.   

“Go on.”  John sobers.  “Ask me about number three.”    

Dean clamps his mouth shut.  He’s suddenly unaccountably angry and he doesn’t trust himself to speak.      

“It’s alright Son.”  John encourages.  “Tell me what you think.”

“You did everything wrong.”  Dean blurts out unable to stop himself.

“I know.”  John readily admits.  

“You trusted that woman.”

“Yes.”  John actually blushes.  “I was a fool.”

“You paid them.”  Dean can’t help the accusatory tone. 

John blows out a heavy breath. 

“You should have had your ass kicked for that.” 

“Trust me I did.”  John snorts.  “When Bobby got in from DC he read me the riot act.” 

“Who’s Bobby?”  Dean’s momentarily thrown.  “Do you mean Director Robert Singer?”

“Ya.”  John says.  “We go way back and it wasn’t his first rodeo.  He knew better.”  

Dean rolls his eyes to the sky.  It’s all falling into place now.  

The Winchester kidnappings had made international headlines multiple times when he was a kid.  The third time he was taken the little boy had been snatched from the Mall in the middle of the day and the story with it’s ensuing drama had captured hearts all over the world.  It had held his attention just like it had nearly everyone else. 

He heaves a sigh.  He has no idea how to tell John Winchester that his misfortune and his son’s suffering had given Dean an escape from his own.  That the Impala had been only part of his recover after his parents were killed and that the obsession born in those dark months had only solidified over the years. 

The case had sparked his interest in Behavioral Science too.  He’d read every book and report he could find on the subject.  When he’d been accepted to the Academy he hadn’t been able to resist revisiting the Winchester case.  

He’d analyzed every move the Bureau had made and second guessed every decision point.  He’d tried to decipher the motivations behind the crimes themselves and the thought processes of all of those involved.  He’d studied it all with a clinical eye and yet he couldn’t help but feel connected to the kid in a way he couldn’t explain.  

It was beyond the frantic national coverage he’d watched as a kid and beyond the current Media speculation about when and where or if anyone would ever again lay eyes on the reclusive Sam Winchester.  Dean had felt angry and protective.  It was irrational, but he’d been unable to shake it.  He couldn’t forget the case or the brave boy who formed the center of it all.

The Director must have known that.  He must have recognized that Dean’s interest was more than an in depth study of a major case.  He must have seen Dean walking a fine line between scholarship and obsession.  

Dean flops down on the bench and drops his head into his hands.  He should have known that his little secret would catch up to him someday. 

John either missed Dean’s minor melt-down or kindly chooses to ignore it.  

Dean assumes it’s the later.  A man like John Winchester misses nothing.  

“Okay.”  He says.  “Tell me why you paid.”

“I couldn’t leave my Son with those people any longer then I had to.”  John replies evenly.  “They cut his hair and sent me the clippings.”

Dean nods.  He’s seen the evidence. 

“They sent those pictures.”  John can’t hide the devastated look in his eyes.  “Pictures of him…in that…in that…”

“Don’t!”  Dean shoves away from the table.  His voice is harsh in his own ears.  “Don’t go there John.” 

Dean takes a few calming breaths, but he can’t delete the images that have just popped into his brain.  Incredibly the pictures had never been made public and he’d been shocked when his request to open the sealed files had actually been granted.  Now he wishes he’d never seen them.  

There were two photos sent by the kidnappers in the file.  The first one showed a shaggy haired boy with his legs tucked up to his chest and skinny arms wrapped around himself.  His bright blue and red Spiderman PJs had stood out in stark relief against the dirty white plastic of the dog kennel.   

The second photo showed the boy glaring at the camera in defiance.  He was crouched in his underwear in the back of the kennel.  One wrist had been zip-tied to the side of the cage.  His wrist had been rubbed raw, his face swollen red and puffy, his arms scratched and bleeding. 

Dean closes his eyes.  Taken as a whole they weren’t as gory or as appalling as other crime photos he’d studied, but unlike the others these had made him feel helpless in a away he never expected.  He takes another deep breath and pushes aside that memory.  

He focuses instead on the look of grim determination the boy had worn.  To stoic and calm for a kid his age.  He’d fought them when they’d cut his hair and taken his PJs.  A boy with that kind of inner strength would not and had not been defeated.   

“He was gone for 13 days.”  John’s whisper pulls Dean from his reverie.

“I know.”  Dean growls.  

He wants to turn on the man he’s only just met and scream at him.  He knows that fundamentally none of it was John Winchester’s fault and yet he wants to yell and rage on that helpless boy’s behalf.  He clenches his fists.  It’s nuts. 

“He caught pneumonia.”  John tells him.  “If I hadn’t paid them he would have died.”  He insists.  “Even knowing what came after.  Knowing what I set in motion with that money…I would pay the ransom again.”    

Dean takes a few more breaths and moves to the table.  He sits down and fishes a bottle of water out of the cooler.  He takes a long deliberate drink.    

John waits patiently until Dean looks at him.  His eyes are bright with sadness, but there is strength there too.  Just like his Son.  

“I get it.”  Dean tells him.  He’s never been a Father, but he imagines that he would have done anything he could to save his Son.  “You paid and he lived.”  

John gives him a wary look. 

“There’s no blame in that.”  Dean is surprised to hear himself.  

He’s always blamed John Winchester a little bit, but faced with the man himself and the burning residual of fear in his eyes Dean sees clearly how unfair he’s been.  He has no right to judge one man’s impossible choice.  No right at all.  

“But…”  John crosses his arms and looks at Dean.  “Only the willfully blind would fail to see how it opened the door.”  

“Yes.”  Dean concedes.  “When they took him that last time they had the advantage.”

“Because I’d already paid up once.” 

Dean grimaces.  He knows without a doubt that it was the single largest contributing factor to the fourth abduction.  It had to be.

“The last crew.”  John takes a drink of water.  His hands shakes.  “They were never going to give him back to me were they?”

“No.”  Dean replies simply.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean gives John a minute or two to reabsorb what he most certainly already knew.  

Everything in the case file indicates that the last set of kidnappers had been nothing short of ruthless.  They’d planned the abduction for over a year, identified every possible scenario, and accounted for or neutralized an impressive amount of variables.  They’d been after the millions plain and simple.  

Dean tries to stay calm and can’t.  “Those fucking bastards.”  He growls.    

If they weren’t already rotting in jail he’d be tempted to track them down and do violence.  His heart pounds in his throat.  He flicks a glance at the older man.  

John gives him a knowing look.  

Dean flushes.  He’s never been able to explain, even to himself, why he feels so strongly about a boy he’s never met.  It’s inappropriately proprietary and he knows he hasn’t the right.  He closes his eyes and recites the facts from memory.  

“They killed three people, wounded four others…including Senator Millard…and lost one of their own when they assaulted the Winchester compound.”  

John sighs.  

“They took out the guard on the back patio with a long range sniper rifle.”  Dean goes on.  “The sound of the shot was drowned out by the band.”  

“It was my friend’s election party.”  John explains.  “The guard’s name was Ryan Holder.” 

Dean keeps his eyes closed, but nods.  “They killed the second guard inside the back hallway.  Stabbed him in the armpit.  Knife through the heart.  Left him to bleed out on the floor.  It was their first mistake.”  

“Brain Stanley.”  John says.  “He managed to key his mic and signal a break-in before he died.”

“Your guard at the boy’s room heard the warning and she was ready.”

“Yes.”  

“She took out their point man at the top of the stairs.”

“She killed the first guy and winged the second before their third man shot her in the neck.”  John notes. 

“Got her just above her vest.”  Dean opens his eyes and stares over John’s shoulder at the middle distance.  

“Linda Blanchard.”  John nods sadly.  “She died on the operating table forty-five minutes later.”  

Dean grimaces.  “You and Senator Millard made it up the back stairs just as they were breaking into the boy’s room.”

“Kevin and I’d been friends since we were kids.”  John says.  “He’d known Sam all his life.  He wouldn’t stay behind.”

“You took a couple shots at the closest target and missed.”

John flushes, but nods.

“The Senator was hit by return fire.”

“A bullet hit him high on the chest and knocked him down the stairs.”

“Then you emptied your clip.” 

“I always thought I was a decent shot, but…”  John looks at Dean with dark self-incriminating eyes.  “When I needed to be sharp I blew it.”  

“Nobody is ever prepared for a real fire fight.”  Dean concedes.

“I was a Marine.”  John grumbles.  “I’ve been shot at before.  I’ve killed men in combat.”

“This wasn’t combat.”  Dean says.  “You were in your home.  They were after your Son.  You did better then most.”

John scowls.

“You did.”  Dean says with total confidence.  John had made mistakes, but fighting to protect his child wasn’t one of them.

“They took my Son and I couldn’t stop them.  He screamed and fought…”  The older man’s breath hitches and he blinks up at the sky.  

“They stun gunned you man.”  Dean points out.  “They set it to hold a steady current and it kept you paralyzed. ”  

“It was Hell Dean.”  John looks him the eye and Dean stares right back.

He’s pictured the scene a million times.  He’d imagined how he might have felt.  He’d critiqued everyone’s behavior during the incident including John’s yet the emotions that swirl and break in the older man’s eyes make it clear to that Dean could never fully understand. 

“I laid there on the floor and watched them steal my only child.”  John says flatly.

“You did what you could John.”  Dean insists. 

“They wounded three more guards when they took him out the window.” 

“Yes.”  

“Of all the ways to break-in and out of the compound we never thought about how easy it would be to drop a retrieval basic onto his balcony.”

“Tracking the chopper was easy though.”  Dean points out.  “It’s hard to hide something like that.”

“But they were long gone when we found it.”  John counters.

“The Bureau would have found them.”  Dean says, though there’s no telling how long it would have taken.  Probably too long. 

“I should have been able to stop them.”

“They were professionals and they were better then yours.”

“Simple as that?”

“In this case?”  Dean looks him in the eyes.  “Ya.”

John looks away and sighs.  “I would have paid again.”    

“You love your Son.”  Dean says quietly. 

“Damn kid is my whole life.”  John smiles suddenly and a fierce love shines in his eyes.  

Dean blinks against the power of it.

“He’s the only thing that matters.”

“I get that.”  Dean flops down on the bench.  “Turns out you didn’t have to.”

“No.”  John smiles proudly.  “He gave them the slip.”

“The boy was the only variable they hadn’t have planned on.”  Dean grins. 

“Ya.”  John chuckles.  “He was a little quiet then, shy, and chubby too.”  He says wistfully.  “He hadn’t hit that last growth spurt yet or told me I had me I couldn’t call him ‘Sammy’ anymore.”  

“Growth spurt?”  Deal rolls his eyes.  “Rumor has it he’s over six foot something.  I’d call that a growth explosion.”  

The older man throws his head back and laughs.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to looking up at him.”  

“How did he get out anyway?”  Dean tries to sound casual, but it’s hard to hold his anticipation in check.

There is a very thorough account of the boy’s travels after he escaped the cabin and extensive interviews, maps, and aerial photos of young Sam’s incredible 17 mile hike to freedom, but a key note missing.  The official report neglects to describe how the boy escaped in the first place.  

“I don’t know.”  John throws his hands up and shrugs.

Dean frowns.  “What?” 

“I said I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” 

John levels a glare at Dean that makes him sit back.  “Sam wouldn’t tell me.”

Dean huffs.

“He wouldn’t tell me.”  John’s shoulders sag.  “All he ever said is that he didn’t hurt anybody and that he wanted to keep it his secret in case…”

“In case he needed to escape.”  Dean says flatly.  “Again.”

“Ya.”  John grimaces.  “He made me pinky swear to never ask him about it.”    

“Jesus.”  

“I think Bobby might know though.”  John shrugs.

“Bobby?”  Dean frowns.  “Do you mean Director Singer?”

“Ya.”  John says matter-of-fact.  “He’s been Sam’s ‘Uncle Bobby’ since they day he was born.  They’ve have this super secret thing going and…”  His eyes narrow.  “I figure the old man taught him a trick or two.”

Dean snorts.  He wouldn’t be surprised.  

“Alright.”  He clears his throat.  “I obviously have an interest in this case, but that doesn’t make me an expert on security.”  

John raises an amused brow. 

Dean ignores him and presses on.  “If someone is planning to go after him again they’ll figure out how to take him.  You must know that.”

“I know it.”  John admits. 

“So you know that all this security is just…a show.”

“Yes.”  John acknowledges.  “It’s also a prison.  A safe loving one, but a prison nonetheless.”

Dean frowns in confusion.

“Sam wants to got to College.”  John heaves an enormous sigh.  “And I want him to go.”

Dean struggles to keep his mouth shut.  A chance at the party life at college is nothing compared to the very real threats that still exist.  He wants to tell John it’s reckless to even consider sending the boy out into the world like that, but he can see the older man’s mind is made up.

“He should be able to do anything he wants.”  John insists.  “He shouldn’t be penalized because his old man has too much money and unscrupulous people want it.  He shouldn’t be locked away because I can’t protect him.”  

Dean offers no reply.  He can’t.  He’s just realized what this is all about.  

“I want him to be free.”  John gives him a steady look.  “I want him to have his life…not the one he’s forced to live.”  He shakes his head sadly.  “It’s time to let him go.”

Dean holds his breath.

John waits him out.

“So what do you want from me?”  Dean finally asks, though he’s afraid he already knows. 

“I want you to help me kill my Son.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean wakes before the alarm like he always does.  He turns it off and pads to the kitchen in his sleep pants.  He presses a button for a single cup of coffee and yawns while it brews.

He picks up his mug, grabs a banana, and his iPad and steps out onto his back porch.  It’s just getting to be daylight.  He takes a seat at the only chair. 

From his perch he has a clear view of the three backyards on this side of the Dead End street.  He glances around the neighborhood out of habit, but his eyes quickly fall to the only yard he’s really interested in.  There’s no one outside yet so he opens his iPad and scans the news while he eats his banana. 

Movement catches his eye a few minutes later and he sets the news aside.  He takes a sip of his coffee and peeks over the railing.  He sighs.

It’s always the same.  The rush of relief he feels when his charge is still here, still alive and well.  The confirmation that he’s made it through the night undisturbed and now he’s up and at it again.  

Dean grins.  It’s going to be good day. 

The young man under his watch pauses to take a deep breath before he yawns, stretches, and starts with push-ups.  He’s bare chested and bathed in the early morning light like a Greek God.  

Dean sucks in a breath and clenches his fists.  There’s only so much a man can take. 

The young man before him isn’t a kid anymore and Dean is painfully aware that his interest is no longer strictly professional. For a brief moment he allows himself to drink his fill.  He lets himself want.  He should feel guilty, but he can’t quite get there.  

Dean takes a deep breath and locks away his fantasies for the day.  He clears his throat and gets back to work.  He looks over the rail.  

His charge is wearing his typical look of focused effort.  He’s way to serious and Dean would give just about anything to see the young man throw his head back and laugh.  Just once.  He seriously doubts he’ll be present if merriment ever ensues, but he day dreams about it once in a while. 

Sam finishes his routine and Dean sucks down the last of his coffee.  He watches until the young man goes inside and he gets to his feet.  He needs to get showered and ready to go in time to shadow his charge to campus.  

In less then an hour he and his charge, now known as Sam Wesson, will head out the door.  No one will recognize Dean as an undercover agent or guess that the lanky young man with shaggy brown hair he watches is in fact heir apparent to one of the world’s greatest fortunes.  If they’re lucky as they’ve have been for the last four years they’ll make through the day as a couple of college students working diligently on degrees.  They’ll pass each other on campus and sit quietly in the classes they have in common.  No one the wiser.    

Dean doesn’t alway follow Sam into school, but he feels like today is a good day for it.  He chooses all of his surveillance in the same manner.  He can’t watch the young man 24/7, but he can be around more often then not.  

He used to struggle with the idea of leaving Sam to his own devices, but he made a promise to John and he’s learned to accept certain constraints.  There are times, as much as he feels compelled to, he simply can’t be there.  

So far there’s been no reason to be overly concerned about the young man’s safety, but Dean’s a realist.  If someone wants Sam bad enough there isn’t much he can do from his current position of enforced distance.  He accepts this as part of the deal, but he also maintains a supply of equipment and weaponry for emergencies. 

They leave their apartments on schedule and Dean pulls into the student parking twenty minutes later.  He hops out and grabs his pack.  A dozen cars down, Sam does the same. 

Dean trails behind as the long legged young man makes a beeline to main campus.  He stops at the fountains to adjust his back-pack and watches until the kid enters the Arts Department.  He’ll stay there for at least two hours.  

Dean turns and heads into the Media Building.

At lunch Dean sits on the open terrace and polishes off one of the Culinary School’s hand tossed pizzas.  Predictably Sam orders a salad and eats it by himself near the fountains.  

He used to worry that his charge had no social skills, that maybe his early life had scarred him in a way that made it hard to make friends, but not so.  Sam could easily be the center of attention if he tried even a little.

Dean sits back and watches.  In just the short time they spend stuffing their faces a steady stream of students have stopped by to chat or just say ‘hello’ to Sam.  He returns the greetings with a pleasant patient smile that seems to make everyone he speaks with feel important while at the same time giving them the impression that they need to hurry along.  

Dean has no idea how he does it.

A few minutes later his charge finishes his lunch and buries himself in the Library for most of the afternoon. 

Dean teaches a Freshman self-defense workshop in the quad and then quietly wanders the stacks until Sam gets up and heads home.  Its a typical Friday.  Unremarkable in a well established routine. 

After diner Sam goes out to his favorite coffee shop for some smooth Jazz and fru-fru caffeine.  He usually hangs out for a couple of hours and rolls back in to hit the sack before Midnight.  He never brings anyone home.

Dean tries hard not to notice each time his charge keeps his perfect record and returns to his apartment alone.  He knows he’s got it bad and he should have recused himself from this job long ago.  He just can’t. 

In just a few weeks Sam will graduate and that will be that anyway.  Dean can’t exactly follow the young man forever so its a good thing that they’ll both be moving on.  

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.  He’s ready to let go.  He is.

Dean stands on his porch and watches Sam trek to the bus stop.  He goes back inside and settles down at his desk.  An evening spent working on he latest book will help ease the ache of impending loss.             

 


	7. Chapter 7

Sam wakes with a start.  He opens his eyes to an unfamiliar blackness.  He gulps and ruthlessly crushes the panic that threatens to overwhelm him.  He will not freak out.

He focuses his mind on his safe place and in seconds he’s on the beat up leather couch his parents bought for their first apartment.  It’s been in the living room at the Winchester compound as long as Sam can remember and it’s where he wants to be.  In his mind his Dad’s strong arms surround him in a bear hug.  

 _It’s okay Sammy._ He can almost hear his Dad’s voice.  _You’re going to be okay Son._  

Sam hovers there for a few more moments until his heart slows and his muscles ease their tension.  He takes a few more deep breaths and opens his mind to the problem at hand.  Uncle Bobby had always told him that his brain was his greatest weapon.  He uses it now to calculate, analyze, and catalog. 

He has no idea how he got here, but at this point that doesn’t matter all that much.  He suspects he’ll have plenty of time on his hands to think that over.  For now he needs to know what the current situation is. 

He’s not drugged or restrained and that’s good.  He’s not injured, except for a tenderness in his neck, and that’s even better.  Physical health is vital to any escape plan.  All things considered he’s in pretty good shape. 

Sam rolls toward the wall.  Hopefully the position will hide him from any camera that might be trained on him.  He feels under his left arm and sighs in relief when he finds the device intact.  

He pulls the sheet up over his head and uses his thumb to press the device against the bone in his arm.  He holds it for a three count.  He pulls his thumb away and reads the red digits that display the time and date under the surface of his skin.  He’s only been out for five hours.  He nods to himself and reverses the process to shut down the device.                  

He rolls onto his back and blinks.  He strains his eyes to no avail.  Its pitch black.  He blows out a harsh breath and glares into the darkness. 

“Hey!”  Sam shouts and the sound of his voice comes back to him quickly.  He closes his eyes and feels for the size of the room.  He suspects it isn’t much bigger than his bedroom at the apartment.  

“Hey!  What the Hell is going on here?”  He yells again to double check his impression of the space and to see if his voice gets any reaction from his captures.  It doesn’t.  

Sam sighs.  He spreads his hands out and explores the mattress he’s perched on.  It doesn’t shift as he moves.  He bounces a little and decides it’s a futon.  

“Bummer.”  He mumbles.  At least it’s a queen.

He feels along the walls and encounters metal.  The smooth surface isn’t warm or cold to the touch.  He sniffs the air and smells nothing unusual.  No hint of dirt or damp.  He’s not underground and that’s a relief. 

He scoots to the edge of the bed and tentatively reaches for the floor with his toes.  His socked foot immediately connects with what feels like laminate. 

“A mattress on the floor.”  He grouses.  “Great.”    

He puts both feet down and stands up careful to reach above his head in case the cage or whatever he’s in won’t accommodate his height.  It does.  Another relief.  

Sam shuffles forward, slowly and deliberately.  He doesn’t want to break or knock anything over in the dark.  It’ll just complicate things.  

He bumps gently into a small table near the bed.  It’s square and plastic.  His hand brushes a flashlight and he huffs in relief.  Light makes everything better.  

He presses the button and a bright light snaps on.  It’s too small to totally defeat the darkness, but it’s welcome.  He swings the light slowly over the bed, the little table, and the nearby walls.  

Sam grins when he spots a switch above the bed.  He reaches out and flips the light on.  He hears a soft hum and a distant bulb flickers to life. 

“Yes!”   

He clicks the button and drops the flashlight onto the table.  He plops back down on the bed and pushes himself against the wall.  He flicks his eyes around the room.  It’s a little wider than his bedroom and almost twice as long.  

There’s a plastic desk at the foot of the bed.  It has a single paperback face down on the flat surface.  The desk and matching chair are both hollow mold plastic.  

“Damn.”  No weapons there.

Across from the desk there’s a large cooler and cardboard box stuffed under another flimsy plastic table top.  The table is just big enough to hold a cheap Hotel coffee machine and a stack of paper cups.  It looks like there are a few single serve coffee pods and some sugar and creamer packets as well.   

“Wow.”  He snorts.  “It’s the Ritz.”

Further along the same wall there’s a tiny molded sink atop a rickety looking plastic vanity.  Above that he can see a tiny metal mirror and another light switch.  The light hangs high and out of reach like the one over the bed.  

In the far corner there is a plastic curtain that he assumes it’s hiding a shower and a small camp toilet without a lid.  Next to that there is a set of plastic cubes with several cardboard boxes tucked inside.  

Sam draws his knees up to his chest and tilts his head back.  There’s nothing but dead space above him.  The roof is metal like the walls and, except for a large hatch in the middle, it’s just as smooth.  He runs a quick calculation and estimates that his room is 20 feet or so from floor to ceiling.  

A closer look reveals two ventilation screens positions high up near the ceiling and on opposite ends of the room.  He spots two more on the same walls near the floor.  They are all covered by metal mesh that looks welded in place.  

Whoever stuck him here was nothing if not thorough. 

He sighs and gets up.  

He opens the vanity doors and finds flimsy plastic pipes.  The toilet is also plastic, though it is mounted on a drain and flushes when he tries the handle.  At least he won’t have to put up with that chemical toilet smell.  

He checks the shower.  The rod is plastic too as is the shower head.

“I’m starting to feel like Magneto.”  He quips and laughs at his own joke.  

He checks the cardboard boxes and finds them loaded with towels, a spare set of sheets, boxers, socks, t-shirts, a couple of light flannel shirts, and a few pairs of sleep pants.  He grabs a pair of pants and a flannel and slips them on.  It’s too bad his captures were smart enough to take his jeans.  He’s feel better with his knife in hand.  

Sam turns and walks past the desk to the cooler and opens it up.  There are a bunch of bottled sports drinks, a couple of cartons of milk, a few apples and oranges, bread, and jars of Peanut Butter and Jelly.  The adjacent cardboard box holds an assortment of crackers, chips, nuts, and even chocolate bars.

“All the food groups are represented.”  He snarks.  “I’ve been abducted by Mr. Rogers.”  

He grabs a beverage and takes a swig of the sports drink.  He fishes a power bar out of the box and opens it up.  The first rule of captivity is eat and drink when you can.  

Sam moves to the desk and grabs the paperback off the top.  He stretches out on the bed and finishes off the power bar.  He swallows the last of the sports and turns the book over.  

He blinks in shock.  It can’t be.  Not after all this time.  

Sam stares at the book until his eyes water.  He sucks in a shaky breath and collapses onto his back.  He clutches the book to his chest and allows himself a minute to wallow in unbridled self-pity.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

Footsteps make a hollow sound on the roof and Sam looks up.  He’s been sitting on the bed staring into space for a while now.  He couldn’t bring himself to read the only available book and he can only pass the time with so many push-ups and sit-ups.  

The hatch swings open on well oiled hinges and a box perched on platform suspended by a rope and pulley descends from above.  

Sam gets to his feet and snags the package without a word.  The platform rises rapidly out of his reach.  He stands with the package in his hands and watches until the hatch closes.  

He turns and sets the package on the desk.  He sits carefully on the too small chair and contemplates the plain brown box.  He wonders briefly if it’s dangerous and quickly decides that it wouldn’t serve much of a purpose to injure him.  He slips a finger under the top flap and pulls the box open.  

There’s a Ham sandwich on sourdough, a cold Dr. Pepper, a deck of cards, and toiletry bag.  There’s also a note.

“Please put your garbage in the box.”  It advises politely.  

Sam shakes his head and drops the box on the floor.  He sits at the desk and resolutely eats the sandwich and drinks the soda.  He puts the garbage in the box and adds the empty sports drink bottle and power bar wrapper because he likes to be clean and tidy.   

The hatch opens the instant he closes the box flaps and erases any doubt that they are watching him.  He sighs.  They’ve made their point.  He hasn’t spotted the camera yet, but he will. 

He stands in the middle of the room and waits while the platform lowers.  It stops just out of reach.  He pushes up to his tip toes and it throws him off balance, which he assumes is the point.  He barely manages to tap the box into place before the platform retreats.  They’re taking no chances.

He flops back onto the bed.  He might as well sleep.  He reaches up to flip the lights off and hesitates when he hears the distant sounds of a struggle.  He waits and a few seconds later there is a loud thump that rattles the hatch.

Sam breaks into a grin and jumps to his feet.  He can’t believe rescue has arrived this fast.  He was expecting it to take his Dad 48 hours at least.  

He watches the hatch intently and listens to the scuffle of feet and shouts coming from above.  The minutes drag on until the hatch is thrown open.  

“Hey Sammy!”  The man grins down at him and Sam automatically grins in return.  

There is movement behind the man’s shoulder and Sam shouts.  “Look out!”

The man throws an elbow backwards and disappears.  

“Shit!”  Sam scrambles onto the desk.  It wobbles and holds.   He can’t see anything, but being three feet closer to the action makes him feel better. 

There are grunts of pain and sounds of a struggle.  

Sam winces and holds his breath.  “Come on…come on…”  He clenches his fists and roots for the unknown rescuer.  

There is another alarming thump and silence.  He anxiously watches the hatch and an agonizingly long time later the grease painted face appears again.  He sighs in relief.

“Poughkeepsie.”  The man says with a wry grin.  

Sam nods acceptance of the coded message.  It’s supposed to verify this man is on a legitimate rescue mission and ensure his instant trust.  It does.

The man heaves a heavy black bag over the edge and it swiftly descends on a thin nylon rope. 

Sam reaches out and grabs hold.  “Got it.”  The tension releases and Sam grunts under the sudden weight.  He twists and drops the bag to the floor.  

He looks up again and the man gives him a ‘thumbs up’ before he throws a leg over the edge into Sam’s cage.  He gets both feet through and peers down.  

“It’s about 20 feet.”  Sam cautions.

“I can see that.”  The man says and turns to drop and dangle from his hands.  

“Wait!”  Sam shouts confused.  “What are you doing?”

“Planning my dismount.”

“What!?”

“You might want to move.”

Sam jumps down from the desk and backs up to the opposite wall.  

The man works his way hand over hand around the rim of the hatch until he’s facing the bed.  He lifts his knees and kicks out to start a swing.

“Can’t you use a rope?”  Sam can’t believe this.  “You’re going to break something.”

“Nah…”  The man says with casual confidence.  “I got this.”

A movement above the man’s head catches Sam’s eye and there’s nothing he can do.  He shouts a warning anyway, but it’s too late.    

The figure stomps hard on the man’s gloved hands. 

The man yelps and drops like a rock mid-swing.  He flings his arms out, but there’s nothing to grab onto.  He twists just enough to crash sideways onto the desk top and falls to the floor in a heap. 

Sam dives forward and gets an arm under the man’s head before it smacks the floor.  

The man gasps for breath.  “Thanks.”

The hatch slams shut above them.  

Sam shouts at the ceiling.  “Asshole!” 

“Ya…”  The man pants.  “What a dick.”  

“Jesus.”  Sam grumbles.  “What in the Hell were you thinking with that stunt?”  

The man shrugs.  “I thought it would work.”  

“You could have broken your Damn neck!”  

“Na.”  The man wave a dismissive hand.  “I just had a little trouble sticking the landing.”  

Sam is speechless.

The man flashes him a killer grin.  

Sam barks a laugh and shrugs helplessly.  “You’re nuts.”  

“Dude…”  The man snorts.  “Don’t judge me.”  

Sam rolls his eyes.  “You okay?”

“I might have a few bruised ribs.”  The man pulls away from Sam and shoves himself back against the wall.  “I’m glad I wore the vest.”  He pats his chest.  “It probably saved me from a punctured lung or something.”  

Sam winces.  

The man flexes his arm and groans.  “Banged my elbow pretty hard and…”  He reaches down and rubs his thigh.  “Damn desk gave me a ‘Charlie Horse’.”

“You’re lucky that stupid thing is plastic.” 

“No shit.”  The man snorts and glances around the room.  “Nice digs.”  He stretches out his injured leg and grimaces.  “Sorry it took me so long to get here.  I had to wait for them to show me where they had you stashed and bring the keys to that ridiculously oversized padlock.”  

Sam snorts.  At least the guy has a sense of humor.  “Why are you down here?”  He runs a hand through his hair.  “I mean…don’t get me wrong I’m glad for the company, but now we’re both stuck.”

“I couldn’t get you out by myself.”  The man says as if throwing himself into Sam’s prison makes perfect sense.  

Sam drops to the floor at the man’s feet and wraps his arms around his knees.  “I still don’t get it.”

“Too many guards up top.”  The man sniffs.  “Easier to break in…then out.”  

Sam cocks his head and waits.  

“Fine.”  The man huffs and looks away.  “I couldn’t leave you down here alone.  Okay?”

Sam narrows his eyes and leans in for a better look.  Its safer to be wary of the stranger even with the correct code word, but he can’t shake the feeling that he knows this man.  He scoots closer, reaches out, and pulls the man’s black Watch Cap off.  

He blinks.  He’d know that spiky blond hair anywhere.  He leans in and wipes the paint from the man’s face with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.  

The man eyes narrow, but he makes no move to stop him.  

Sam gently sweeps away the dark colors until a familiar face emerges.  “Dean.”  

“Ya.”  The man seems mildly surprised to be recognized.

Sam sighs happily.  “I knew it was you.”

“Huh?”  

“I knew there was someone looking out for me.” 

Dean’s face flashes with guilt.  “I’m sorry.”   

“Why?”  

“Because…”  Dean swallows and drops his eyes.  “Because you’re supposed to be free and I’m supposed to keep my distance.  That was the deal.  You know…let you live a normal life.”

“You did.”  Sam insists.  “I was.”  

Dean shoots him a look that’s clearly skeptical.      

“I really thought you were just another student at first.”  Sam explains.  “You were only in a few of my classes and I only saw you where I expected to see you.”  

Dean nods.

“It’s your own fault you caught my attention.”  Sam wags his eyebrows.  “You should be a Male Model with those looks.  So hot.”

“Hey.”  Dean scowls.  “Don’t objectify me.”

Sam throws his head back and laughs.  

Dean’s eyes fly wide and he stares.

Sam shakes his head.  “You also caught my attention in class because you’re obviously smart.”  He clarifies.  “Not just sexy as Hell.”

Dean blushes.

“You’re careful not to show it though.”  Sam says.  “Why is that?”

Dean frowns.   

“You don’t have to answer.”  Sam waves a hand.  “You had my attention so I started looking for you at the Student Union.  I see you drinking coffee a couple of times a week.”  He makes a face.  “Black.”  

“It puts hair on your chest.”    

“I’ll stick with the drinkable stuff.”

“Wuss.” 

Sam grins. “I’ve seen you driving that gorgeous car too.”  

“She’s my Baby.”  Dean says simply.  He pulls out two automatic pistols from his vest, safes them, and sets them aside.  He shoots a look at Sam.  “Don’t worry I didn’t shoot anybody.”  

“That’s good.”  Sam says.  “My Dad’s team will try not to shoot anybody either.”  He shrugs.  “We’ll see.”

“Well…”  Dean rips opens his vest, takes a deep breath, and sighs.  “I didn’t want them pissed off enough to come in here after me.”

“Makes sense.”  Sam tilts his head and looks at Dean.  He’s incredibly attractive.  Always has been.  “How come I’ve never seen you with anyone?”  He prods.  Mostly because he can.  “Four years and it’s only ever been you.”

Dean fiddles with his vest.  

“Even though half the campus…and probably the other half…”  Sam teases.  “Would throw themselves at your feet if they had the chance.”    

Dean snorts and blushes.  “No one interested me enough I guess.”  

Sam raises an eyebrow.  

Dean huffs.

“It took me a while to figure it out.  That your were watching me I mean.”  Sam admits.  “You almost gave me a serious complex.”

Dean cocks his head.  “Come again?”  

“I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to get your attention.”  Sam blushes and rubs a hand through his hair.  “You know…” 

“Oh.”  Dean looks genuinely stumped.  

“Ya.”  Sam shrugs.  “Since it never seemed to work I thought you weren’t interested in guys.  In fact you never even looked at me.  Not once.”

Dean looks away.  

“Then…”  Sam presses on.  “It occurred to me that maybe you couldn’t be interested in me because you were busy…watching me.  There had to be someone.  Right?”  

Dean grimaces.  “Sorry about the professional stalking thing.”

“Don’t be.”  Sam tells him honestly.  “You never made me feel like a job or a burden Dean.”  

Dean drops his eyes.  “Good to know.”  

“Besides…”  Sam can’t help but push a little.  “Like I said I wanted to be the center of your attention so when I figured out that you were watching me I thought…lucky me.”  

Dean snaps his head up and goes an adorable shade of red.   

“You didn’t think I started doing my morning exercises in the back yard because I prefer to sweat in the grass did you?”


	9. Chapter 9

Dean has no idea what to say.  He’s waited such a long time to meet Sam in person, to hear that voice directed at him, and see that gorgeous smile.  He wants so badly to take what is so obviously being offering and Damn the consequences. 

It’s all he can do to sit still.  He forces himself to take a few deep breaths.  He can no more reach for this young man then he can wish them both out of this box.  He must stay professional. 

“Sammy…”  Dean starts.

“Don’t worry.”  Sam gives him a patient smile.  “I don’t expect anything right now.  I just wanted to…”  He blows out a nervous breath.  “I promised myself that I would find an opportunity to tell you all these things before it was too late and that when the chance came I wouldn’t hesitate.”  He looks up at the hatch and snorts.  “I know its Shitty timing.”  

Sam gets to his feet and crosses the small space to a large cooler.  He digs out a bottle and hands it to Dean.

“Thanks.”  Dean accepts it gratefully.  

His mouth is so parched and he doesn’t know if he trusts himself to speak.  He needs to get a grip on this and focus on the mission.  Save their asses first, then if by some miracle this wonderful man is still interested in pursuing something then Dean’s all in.   

“So what’s the plan?”  Sam shoves the busted desk back against the wall and tucks the chair underneath.  

Dean sweeps the room with a meaningful look.

“Their watching.”  Sam acknowledges.  “Probably listening too.”

Dean nods and pulls the tab on his front vest pocket.  He takes a small electronic device out and turns it on.  The light blinks red and then quickly goes green.  He grins at Sam and sets the jammer on the desk.

Sam raises an eyebrow.  “That looks like an ‘Ash Special’?”    

“Ya.”  Dean chuckles.  “Guaranteed to block electronic surveillance of any kind.”  

“Nice.”  

Dean couldn’t agree more.  John Winchester only employs the best and Ash is a tech genius.  “They don’t call him Dr. Badass for nothing.”  He gets to his feet and takes a swig of the sports drink.  

Sam gives him a once over.  “How’s the leg?”

Dean shrugs.  The fall hadn’t damaged him all that much, but his leg is already stiffening up.  Hopefully it won’t be a problem.

“Okay.”  Sam nods.  “Let’s get you into bed then.” 

Dean chokes on his drink.

Sam shoots his a mischievous grin.  “Second rule of captivity.”

“Sleep when you can.”  Dean croaks and clears his throat.  He bends down and picks up his 9MM.  “Can you handle one of these?”

“Of course.”  

“Good.”  Dean hands him the pistol.  “Keep an eye on the hatch while I get washed up.”

Sam cocks an eyebrow.  

“We don’t know how long we’ll be here.”  Dean sighs.  “Third rule of captivity…”

“Wash when you can.”  Sam agrees.  “We have to stay healthy.”

“Right.”

Sam takes a seat on the bed with his back to the wall and his eyes on the hatch.

Dean nods his approval and moves out of the line of fire.  He turns his back to Sam and strips out of his filthy clothes.  He performs a quick combat shower with a wet wash cloth and manages to remove most of the sweat and grime. 

“There are fresh t-shirts in the boxes.”  Sam points out.  “Help yourself.”

“I brought my own.”  Dean avoids eye contact and grabs the pack he dropped in before his spectacular fall.  

He dons a clean shirt and tactical pants from his pack.  He fishes out a thigh holster and straps it on.  He picks his 45CAL off the floor and settles it where it belongs.  He feels instantly better.  

He takes his tactical vest, wipes it down, and straps it back on.  He grabs a few things out of the bag and motions for Sam.  

Sam jumps to his feet.

Dean hands him tactical pants and a pair of boots.  “Put these on.”  

Sam does so without argument.  

“Everything fit okay?” 

“Ya.”  Sam smiles obviously surprised.  “Thanks.”

“Good.”  He hands Sam a vest.  “This too.”  

Sam gets the vest on and Dean shows him where to stow his pistol.

“You good to go if anything goes down?” 

Sam gives him a confident smile.  

“Good.”  Dean smiles back.  “I don’t know if they’re willing to try and get me out of here or maybe attempt to move you.”  

“Okay.”  Sam says.

“So we take every precaution.”  Dean heads to the other end of the container and pulls all the cardboard boxes from the plastic shelves near the shower.  

Sam follows and moves the boxes out of the way without direction.

Dean lays the shelf on its side and shoves it into the corner.  He turns and yanks the shower curtain down.  

Sam helps spreads it out over the square shelves and push the plastic down to form bowls in each available space.   

“Empty the cooler and fill it with water.”  Dean says. 

Sam does as he’s told.

While Sam is at the faucet Dean flips the broken desk upside down and cuts the legs off with his knife.  He takes the legs into the shower and fills the hollow plastic tubes with water.  

“I fill those.”  Sam nods toward the shelf.  “Right?” 

“Ya.”  Dean nods.  “As full as you can get them.”

“Got it.”

Dean sets the table legs aside and goes back for the chair.  He carves a hole in the bottom of one leg and fills it with water too. 

Sam fills the last of the makeshift shower curtain bowls and fills the cooler one last time.  He sets it on the floor and closes the lid. 

“Give me a hand.”  Dean tugs a clean sheet from one of the boxes and Sam helps stretch it out. 

They lay it across the top of the water filled shelf.  

Dean hands Sam an empty box.  Together they tear down enough cardboard to cover the sheet and hopefully keep contaminates out. 

“How long do you think this will last us?”  Sam wants to know.

Dean gives him an approving nod.  He’s pleased he doesn’t have to explain.  “Long enough.”

“For my Dad to get us out?”

“Ya.”

“Okay.”  Sam frowns.  “What’s up with the table legs?”

“Extra.  Just in case and…”  Dean shrugs.  “We can use that water for the toilet if we need to.”

“Right.”  Sam nods.  “Good idea.  What else do we need to do?”

Dean looks around the space again.  “We don’t know what their capable of so all we can do is plan for the obvious.”     

“What about the vents?”

Dean shakes his head.  “We can’t reach the high ones so there’s not a lot we can do if they try to gas us out.”

“Okay.”  Sam agrees.  “Did you bring any battery powered lights?  There’s a flashlight, but it’s pretty weak.”

“Ya.  I’ve got a couple long life LED Head Lamps and two small crank lights.”

“Good.”  Sam blows out a breath.  “It’ll be pitch black in here without them.”

“Well…”  Dean sighs.  “Hopefully it will take them a while to come around to killing our power or water.”  He pulls one last item from the bag and repacks the rest.  He eases down onto the mattress and pats the empty space beside him.

Sam plops down and gives him an expectant look. 

“Kevlar blanket.”  Dean shakes out.  “In case they drop a flash bang or something.”

Sam nods and helps spread it across the foot of the bed.  “Have you talked to my Dad?”

“Not directly.”  Dean closes his eyes and leans back.  “I sent him the signal though.”

“Did you bring a phone?”

“Ya, but I left it in a safe place.”  Dean notes Sam’s disappointment and cringes.  “Sorry, but if they’re as good as we think they are they could use it against us.”  He explains.  “Maybe track your Dad with it.  I couldn’t risk it falling into their hands.”

Sam nods though he’s clearly not happy.

“But…”  Dean grins and fishes a phone out of his vest pocket.  “Ash hooked me up with this one-shot thingy.”  He turns it on.  “I can take a picture or a short video and send it encrypted.”

“Like ‘Instagram’?”

“I guess so.”  Dean shrugs.  “The message bounces around before it gets to your Dad.  It’s not live, but it’s untraceable.”

“Another Dr. Badass guarantee?”

“Yep.  It works like a champ.”  

“How do you know that?”

“Come on Sammy.”  Dean rolls his eyes.  “Your Dad loves you like crazy.  Did you really think he’d go four years without some kind of reassurance that you’re alive and well?”

“I couldn’t think about it.  Being apart.”  Sam says softly.  “It was too hard.  I guess I thought he didn’t want to think about it either.”

“Jesus.”  Dean claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes.  “That man is like a Sam junky.”

Sam blinks.  “Really?” 

Dean gives Sam’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  “You know that time you got Pneumonia again.  Your Sophomore year?”

Sam nods.  

“Bobby had to stop him from flying down here and whisking you away to some private clinic in the Alps.”  Dean snorts.  “And I had one Hell of a time getting into your Hospital room to get a picture of you.  You looked so miserable kiddo.  He drove me nuts with update requests.”

Sam sniffs his eyes bright.  “You’ll have to tell me that story sometime.”  

“Sure.”  Dean grins and shows him the security screen.  “If you punch in the wrong code.”  He makes sure Sam can see the correct sequence.  “More than a couple of times or tamper with it…poof it self-destructs.”

“Very ‘Mission Impossible’.”  Sam says dryly.

“I know right?”  Dean laughs.  “So let’s record something real quick.”

“Okay.” 

“You ready?”

Sam nods.  

“Go.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey Dad.”  Sam clears his throat.  “I’m okay.”  He flashes a grin.  “We’re okay.”  He wants to say so much, but there’s no time.  “Thank you for giving me these last few years.  They’ve been really amazing and this isn’t your fault Dad.  Okay?  It’s never been your fault.”  He sighs and flashes Dean a shy smile.  “Thanks for Dean too.”

Dean sucks in a breath and shakes his head.

Sam looks into the camera.  “I’ve missed you so much.  I’ll…we’ll see you soon.  I love you Dad.”

Dean pushes the stop button and blows out a breath.  “You’ve got to stop looking at me like that man.”  He swallows hard.  “Seriously.”  

Sam raises a challenging eyebrow and gives him a steady look.

Dean flushes and clears his throat.  “Good job.”  He grabs Ash’s jamming device and hands it to Sam.  “Flip the switch and count to ten.”

“Okay.”  Sam agrees.  “Go.”

Dean hides the phone under the bed sheet and selects the only number in the phone.  He hits send and they both watch the sending bar expand while Sam silently counts down.  The message clears with two seconds to spare.

“We’re good.”  Dean confirms.

Sam switches the scrambler back on and sets in on the bedside table.  “Thanks Dean.”

“Sure thing Sammy.” 

Sam smiles and has to ask.  “What’s with the ‘Sammy’?”

“Sorry.”  Dean blushes.  “It’s habit.”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “I’ve always think of you as ‘Sammy’.  I’ll stop saying it.  i know you hate it.” 

“I don’t mind when you say it.”  Sam says honestly.  “Really.”  

He used to hate it when people called him ‘Sammy’ like he was some helpless kid, but for some reason when Dean says his name like that it feels protective, comforting.  He likes it.  

Dean studies him for along moment, but makes no comment.

“So what kind of stuff did you send my Dad?”  

“All kinds of things.”  Dean shrugs.  “Your apartment…”

Sam flushes and scowls. 

“Hey.”  Dean says quickly.  “Just the street view.  I’ve never been inside.  I swear.”

“Oh.”  Sam is more then a little relieved.  Though it seems clear the Dean is amazingly enough interested in him the way he’s been dreaming about, he’s aware the photographs he’s taken of the handsome green-eyed man are slightly obsessive.  He would totally embarrassed if Dean had seen them without an explanation.    

“What?”  Dean raises an eyebrow.  “You got some dark secrets hidden in there?”

Sam blushes furiously and waves him off. 

“Don’t worry.”  Dean chuckles.  “I’ve never sent your Dad anything remotely compromising.”  He shrugs.  “You never do anything risky or risqué Sam.” 

“I know.”  Sam huffs.  “Pathetic right?”

“You’re just you Sammy…Sam.”  Dean says simply.  “No reason to change.”

Sam wants to grab him up, wrap his arms around him, and never let him loose, but the last thing he wants is for Dean to think he’s just some desperate kid.  He knows this is a crazy situation and that calls for restraint.  Even if Dean is completely irresistible. 

He clears his throat.  “How long do you think it’ll be until Dad gets here?” 

“I don’t know.”  Dean admits.  “As long as you’re safe, your Dad’s team will want to wait long enough to draw the leader out and maybe get the whole network.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry.”  Dean gives him a reassuring smile.  “I planted a couple of GPS locators while I was up top.”

“I’m not worried.”  Sam tells him.  “Dad always knows where I am.”

Dean frowns.  “Ya?” 

“After that last time we had a GPS installed.”  Sam pats his thigh.  “I’ve had it upgraded right before you killed me.  I assume it still works.”  

“No Shit?”  Dean is clearly impressed.  “Another ‘Ash Special’?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

“There’s a clock too.”

Dean frowns.

Sam grins and shows him how it works.

“Wow.”  Dean shakes his head.  “I’m starting to wonder if you need me at all.”

Sam sighs heavily and snags the paperback book from the bedside table.  He hands it to Dean.

“What’s this?” 

“The fourth time they took me?”  Sam grimaces.  “This book was there.”

“Shit.” 

“They never found out who pulled the strings.”  

“I know.”  Dean takes the book and looks it over.  “You think this is his?  The leader?”

“I don’t know if it’s…his...”  Sam admits.  “But, I know this exact book was in that cabin.”  He points to the torn corner and the scratch across the cover.  “It was one of my favorites when I was a kid.  They gave it to me to read while I was in that cell.  I would recognize it anywhere.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”  Dean huffs.  He pulls the phone out again, punches in the code, and clicks record.  “John…you were right.  Its the same guy.  Find that bastard and end this.”  He shoots Sam a quick smile.  “We’ll be fine here for a few days easy…a week if needed.  We’ll check messages.”

Dean stops the recorder and they do the drill with the scrambler again so he can send it. 

“What did you mean ‘you were right’?”  Sam asks when they’re done.

“Your Dad thought that the last kidnapping might have had something to do with a business deal he was working on when you were taken.”  Dean leans back and closes his eyes.  “They eventually arrested everyone involved except the man in charge.  None of the minions were able to identify a guy they’d never met.”

Sam nods.  He knows the facts of his own case inside and out.  “So Dad thinks those guys weren’t after the money?”

“Oh the crew was after the money.”  Dean opens his eyes and looks at him.  “They were professionals with an excellent plan and frankly if you hadn’t turned out to be such an unexpected pain-in-the-ass they would have had their pay day.”

Sam grins.

“Promise you’ll tell me how you got out.”  Dean fixes him with a look.  “Someday.”

“Okay.”  Sam replies easily.  “I promise.”

Dean nods. 

“So you think this guy hired a crew to what?  Distract Dad?”

“Maybe.”  Dean tells him.  “The money they asked for was a lot, but not as much as they should have asked for and while you were gone your Dad had nothing but time to think up and check out every possible angle.”

“Nothing gets by my Dad.”

“Right.”  Dean snorts.  “So while you were pulling your ‘Wilderness Girl’ act your Dad found a few anomalies.  Things he didn’t like about a certain deal and its architect.”

“You sound like Dad.”  Sam teases.

Dean shrugs.  “I’m okay with that.”

“Do you think this guy could be at it again?  I mean the book is pretty convincing, but really?  After nearly a decade?”

“I don’t know Sammy.”  Dean sighs.  “But if I’ve learned anything about human behavior its that a guy like this wouldn’t be able to let it go.”

“The fact that I escaped?”

“Ya.”  

“Is that why you and Dad killed me?”

“Partly.”  Dean admits. 

“Do you think Dad will reply?”  Now that he knows its a possibility to hear from his Dad, Sam is anxious..

“He will.  When he can.”

Sam sighs and scoots down until he’s as comfortable as he can get on the mattress with all this gear on.

Dean reaches over him and snags the scrambler.  “We need to conserve the batteries.”

Sam nods. 

“We’ll use it again if we need to chat in private or when we check for messages.”  Dean explains.

“Sounds good.”

Dean shuts of the device and stows it in his pocket.  He pulls the blankets up, including the Kevlar cover, and tucks them both in.  

Sam turns toward the green-eyed man.  He smiles at the vision that has haunted countless dreams and kisses him lightly on the lips.  

Dean gasps in surprise and flushes red. 

“Goodnight Dean.”  Sam chuckles and flips the light off.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The distant snap and crackle of gunfire jolts Sam from sleep.  He reaches instinctively for Dean.  

“Move!”  Dean grabs him and shoves him off the edge of the bed.  “Get under the mattress…NOW!”

Sam scrambles to his hands and knees.    

He hears Dean lifts the mattress and a strong hand gives Sam a shove underneath.  The Kevlar blanket quickly follows.  “Pull your legs up and tuck this around you.”  

“No Dean.”  Sam refuses.  “You get under here too.”  

Dean huffs and shoves himself under the weight of the futon.  He scoots back and Sam tucks the blanket around them both.  The mattress drops and it presses down on them in the darkness.

They lay quietly, both listening intently to the distinctive smattering of gun fire.  

“Do you think it’s Dad?”  Sam tries to stay calm.  He wraps his arms around Dean’s chest and they fit nicely.

Dean reaches back and squeezes his hip.  “I hope so.”  

Sam buries his face in Dean’s neck.  “Do you think they have a chance?”       

“Yes.”  Dean nods firmly.  “Your Dad only employs the best.” 

“I know.  He sent me you.”  Sam presses a soft kiss into Dean’s skin.  It’s as easy as breathing.  He knew it would be.  “I should be sorry that you’re stuck here.”  He mumbles.  “But, I’m not.”  

Dean shivers and spreads his hands over Sam’s.  “Me neither Sammy.” 

Sam sighs.  “We’re quite a pair aren’t we?”  

“Ya.”  Dean chuckles.  

The sound of gun fire grows noticeably louder and Sam tightens his hold.  He closes his eyes.  It’s so easy to shut it out and focus on the feel of Dean in his arms.  It’s too perfect.  He can’t believe Dean’s allowing it.  

“Sammy…”  Dean swallows hard.  “Listen…I…”

“Don’t say it.”  Sam growls in his ear.  “No goodbyes and no regrets.  We’re going to get out of here and you and I are going to discover why we’re prefect for each other.”

Dean huffs.  “You don’t know that Sam.”  He insists.  “You’ve barely had a chance to live a regular life.  How do you know I’m what you want?”

“I just do Dean.”  Sam tells him with absolute confidence.  

His Dad had always said that when he’d met Sam’s mother he’d just known she was the only one for him.  They’d loved each other passionately until the day she died.  Sam had always assumed it would be the same for him.

“Sammy…promise me you’ll think about this rationally.”  Dean says reasonably.  “Wait until we aren’t trapped in a giant shipping container and the shooting has stopped.”

“Okay Dean.”  Sam chuckles and plants a soft kiss at the base of Dean’s ear. 

“Damn it Sam!”

Sam ignores Dean’s outburst.  “We are going to take a road trip too.”  He says to distract them both.  “Just you and me and the open road.”

“Oh ya?”       

“Ya.”  Sam insists.  “I want to see the world from the front seat of your Baby.”

Dean snorts. “That may take a while.”  

“Six months at least…maybe even a year.”  Sam says matter-of-fact.  “I can take photographs of all they places I’ve dreamed about visiting and you can conduct those interviews you need for your new book.”

Dean shakes his head.  “How do you know about my book?”

“I know a lot of things about you.”  Sam laughs softly.  “You’re not the only one who’s been watching.”

Before Dean can respond a particularly loud boom sounds from just above their heads and silences them both.  

Sam frowns.  There was something different about that explosion, something deeper.  His gut twists and suddenly he knows.  

Dean breaks Sam’s hold and turns over.  “They’re taking the building down!”  He shouts over the sound of a second explosion.  “Cover your ears!” 

Sam quickly does as he’s told.  He squeezes his eyes shut and ducks his head.  

Dean pulls him close and tucks Sam’s head below his chin.  He fumbles with the Kevlar blanket and Sam helps him pull enough slack to cover their heads.  

Seconds later they hear several rapid fire explosions that shake the container.  These are quickly followed by the sounds of wreckage striking the roof and a deafening crash the sends shock waves through the floorboards.  

Sam can only imagine what is happening above.  Whatever is up there must be crumbling around them.  He hopes the container can take the weight.

As if on cue the roof sustains a heavy blow.  The container shifts and shudders.  He can’t see a thing, but he can feel the side walls pushing in against the protection of their cocoon.

“Dean!”  Sam shouts in alarm.

“It’s okay Sammy!”  Dean shouts back.  “We’re okay!”

Sam presses impossibly close and lifts his face to place his forehead against Dean’s.  “I mean it Dean!”  He yells.  Having Dean’s promise suddenly feels like the most important thing in the world.  “You and me…together…swear it!”

“I swear Sammy!”  

Sam hears an obscene screech of metal on metal and then there is a heavy thump on top of the mattress.  He waits a beat.  No other objects fall and there is silence from above.  

“Dean?”  

The man in his arms doesn’t respond.  

He feels for a flashlight and finds the Head Lamp in his vest pocket.  He flips the switch and the light glares brightly under the heavy weight of the Kevlar blanket and futon.  He raises the light to Dean’s face.

He gasps in shock.  Dean’s skin is frighteningly pale and his breathing is shallow.

“Dean?”  Sam touches his cheek.  “Dean…can you hear me?”

“Sammy?”  Dean eyelids flutter and he moans.  “Hurts.”

“What?”  Sam shifts the light to check Dean for injuries.  “Where Dean?  Where are you hurt?”

“Back.”  Dean opens eyes filled with pain.  “Something hit me…took my breath, but…I’m okay.  I think.  Just give me a minute.”

Sam pushes up on his elbow and shoves at the mattress.  He needs more room to maneuver.  The mattress doesn’t budge.

“We’re pinned under the bed.”  Sam grumbles.  “Hold on…don’t move.”

Dean groans.  “Nowhere to go Sammy.”

Sam pushes the mattress up as far as he can and squirms his way out along the wall.  He pans the light around the container and gapes at the destruction.  

“Holy Shit Dean!”  Sam blinks and rubs his face.  “They brought the whole place down on us.”

“Bastards.”  Dean replies flatly.

Sam reaches up and flips the light switch.  Incredibly it still works.  The bulb is dangling at an awkward angle and still swaying from the impacts, but he can see at least a little better. 

“It looks like the building’s roof came down and a beam broke through our ceiling.”  Sam surveys the destruction.  “It cut through it like butter.”

“That’s great Sam.”  Dean’s muffled snark makes Sam grin.  “Want to get me out of here?”

“I’m working on it.”  Sam checks the debris that landed on top of the mattress.  There are a few chucks of concrete and other unidentified materials.  He easily sweeps those aside.  

The twisted metal is another story.  A beam section is bent and sharp edged from the blast.  It pierced the container roof and imbedded itself in the futon.  

“The mattress saved our asses Dean.”  Sam notes. 

Dean groans with effort and the mattress shifts.

“Wait!”  Sam picks his way over the top of the futon and finds footing on the buckled floor.  “Let me have a look at it first.”

He rips the futon and uses it to try and lift the sharp metal up enough to let Dean slide out.  It barely moves.  

“Dean it’s bound up.”  Sam grunts and uses all his strength to leverage the metal.  “Can you move?”  

“Ya.”  Dean sucks in a breath.  “I’m still hung up though.  I think it’s snagged on my vest.”

“I don’t think I can get it any higher.”  Sam shifts his hold.  The metal won’t give an inch.  “Can you get out of your vest?”

“Maybe.”  

Sam’s arms ache, but he holds the futon and keeps pressure on the metal.  

“Hold on Sammy…”  Dean pants with effort.  “Go it.”  He squirms and wiggles and manages to get his lower half free of the mattress.  “Almost out.”  

Sam holds his breath.

“I’m good Sam.”

Sam drops the mattress and turns to Dean.  “Dean!?”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding!”

“This?”  Dean lifts his t-shirt and reveals a quarter size gash.  “It’s no big deal.  The mattress and the Kevlar did their job.”

“Sure.”  Sam sucks in a breath.  “That’s why you’re so pale.  No problem.  You just need that cleaned.  I’ll see if there’s any water left.”  He starts looking for the cooler.  He can’t seem to catch his breath and is hands are shaking.

“Sam?”  Dean places a hand on his shoulder.  

Sam pants for air and his knees go weak.

“Hey!  Easy baby…”  Dean grips his arms and guides him to the floor.  “Take a few breaths.  It’s just the adrenaline.”  He unbuckles Sam’s vest and works it off. 

Sam gasps and pulls his knees up.  He wraps his arms around them and ducks his head.  “Sorry…I just…”

“You did great Sammy.”  Dean rubs soothing hands on Sam’s shoulders.  

“You could have been killed!”  Sam squeezes his eyes tight.  “You could have died in here!”  

“Sam.”  Dean says calmly.  “We’re both okay.  You kept a cool head and got me out.”  

Sam nods, but doesn’t look up.  

Dean kneels down in front of him and takes his hands.  He tugs at them until Sam opens his eyes.

“You don’t need to do this anymore Sammy.”  Dean smiles gently and tugs Sam’s arms away from his knees.  “You can hold onto me now.”

Sam stares at Dean, his chest burning. 

Dean huffs and pulls him into his arms.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Dean holds onto Sam until he stops shaking and starts breathing normally again.  He pulls back and heaves an exaggerated sigh.  “You done having your moment ‘Princess’?” 

“Shut up!”  Sam grouses.  “Jerk!”

“Make me.  Bitch!” 

Sam blinks in shock.

Dean grins and waits.

Sam huffs.

Dean slides his hand to the back of Sam’s neck and tugs.  

Sam licks his lips.

Dean moans at the sight.  It’s every invitation he’s ever wanted and he’s not prepared to turn it down.  Not anymore. 

Sam’s eyes flash in surprised pleasure and he yanks Dean forward

Dean eagerly climbs into his lap.  

Sam’s hands are on him in an instant.  He brackets the sides of Dean’s face and leaves no doubt about who is in control. 

Dean shivers and gasps.  He never knew he liked to be manhandled.  

Sam thrusts his tongue deep into Dean’s open mouth.  The kiss is hot and demanding. 

Dean shifts and wiggles.  He needs to get closer.  He can’t quite get what he wants.  To much clothing between them.  

“Shit!”  Sam throws his head back and groans.  “Dean…”

“Sammy baby…”  Dean rolls his hips and finally manages to make their cocks come together.  “Yes!”

“Jesus!”  Sam chokes out.  “Ya…”  

Dean runs his hands over Sam’s broad chest and attacks his neck.  He nuzzles, licks, and bites.  He can’t get enough of this man and he wants so much more.  

Sam grabs Dean’s hips and thrusts up.

Dean arches his back and pushes down.  It doesn’t take long.  The pressure and friction are too much.  He sucks in a breath and shoots his load into his boxers like a teenager.  

Sam gathers him in his arms and buries his face in Dean’s neck.  He thrusts upwards again and grunts.   

“Damn Sammy.”  Dean feels boneless and sated.  “Remind me to let you take charge whenever you want.”

“What happened to me taking time to think rationally about us?”  Sam smiles ruefully.  “I thought you wanted to wait?”

“Those bastards just tried to kill us.”  Dean mumbles.  “I seized the moment.”

“Good.”  Sam growls and nuzzles Dean’s neck just below his ear. 

Dean snorts and lifts his head.  He cups Sam’s flushed face.  

“I mean it Sam.  I’ve wanted you for four very long years and…well…”  Dean shrugs.  “If this is all I get.  I’m good with that.”  He swallows.  “I hope you know this doesn’t sign you up for…forever.  Whatever we are to each other will be your choice.  Always.”

“Dean.”  Sam rolls his eyes.  “I think you’ll have to try very hard to get rid of me now.”

Dean can’t quite believe it, but he wants to.  He smiles and kisses Sam, soft and sweet. 

A few minutes later Sam sighs  and prods at Dean.  

“You had better get off me so we can get cleaned up.”  Sam grimaces.  “No way am I hugging my Dad with jizz in my pants.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs.  He climbs to his feet and shakes out his legs.  He reaches a hand out to help Sam to his feet.  

“We better make it fast so we can send your Dad a message.  Let him know we’re okay.”

Sam grins.  “Do you think he sent us one?”

“Probably.”  Dean shrugs.  “I haven’t checked yet.  We’ve been kind of busy.”

Sam blushes and ducks his head.  

Dean chuckles.  “Lets get cleaned up and see what we can find in this mess.”  He scans the room.   “We’ll need to know where we stand so we can give your Dad a good idea of how long we can stay down here.”

“You think we’ll be here much longer?”

Dean points up.  “That isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and I’ll bet your Dad won’t touch anything around this container until he knows it will continue to hold.”

“Well…”  Sam looks up and sighs.  “At least the roof stayed mostly intact when the debris hit.”  He blinks and wipes his face.  “If more of those beams had made it through I don’t think we’d have been so lucky.”  

“We’re not thinking about that anymore.”  Dean gives Sam a look.  “Got it?”

“Ya.”

“Good.  Better wash up.”

“Right.”

They find the cooler and the additional water stores mostly intact.  The water filled table legs had fallen and spilled out, but the toilet survived.  They have water in the sink, but not the shower. 

“At least we’re not flooding.”  Sam notes.

“Yep.”  Dean nods.  “Wouldn’t want to ruin the decor.”

They spend a few minutes cleaning the container and themselves.  

Sam cleans Dean’s wound too and slaps a bandage on it.  It stopped bleeding for the most part and the pain is more of an irritant then anything else.  He resolves to ignore it.  

They find the equipment bag and the box of foodstuffs.  The items are covered in concrete dust and some were squashed by falling debris, but most are still edible.  The only large object they are unable to do anything with is the metal beam still stuck in the futon.  

“Do you think you can hold the mattress up again?”  Dean asks.  “I’ll see if I can get the vest out or at least the phone.”

“Okay.”  Sam nods.  He grabs the futon and heaves. 

Dean tugs at the vest and after a minute or two he’s able to work it free.  He slides the Kevlar blanket out too just in case.

Sam drops the mattress and plops onto a clear part of the bed to catch his breath.

Dean does the same.  He pulls the phone out and turns it on.  The message light flashes.

“Looks like your Dad got our message.”  

Sam grins and scoots closer.

“Sam.”  John Winchester’s smile looks strained.  “You look good Son.  I’ve…”  He clears his throat.  “I’ve missed you too.  So much.”  He takes a deep breath and blows it out.  “We’re going to get you boys out of there.  Dean will take care of you until then.  Listen to him Sam.  I’ll check for messages every hour.  I love you.”

The video ends and Dean wraps a comforting arm around Sam’s shoulders.  

“He was right.”  Sam sniffs.  “You did take care of me.”

Dean blushes and goes with snark.  “I’m sure helping you blow your wad wasn’t what he meant.”  

Sam rolls his eyes and wipes away tears.  “Thanks for ruining that emotional moment.” 

“It’s what I do.”  Dean shrugs.  “Dodge emotional moments.  Sorry.”  He grimaces.  “You should probably know that about me.”

“Okay.”  Sam says simply.  “I can deal.”

“Good to know.”  Dean clears his throat.  “How about we send a video before your Dad blows a gasket?”

Sam grins and kisses him.

“Dude!”  Dean scolds.  “Stop trying to get into my pants.”

Sam laughs and Dean can’t get enough of watching him.  He presses record on the video and captures a few precious seconds for himself.  Just in case.

“Hey I wasn’t ready.”  Sam grouses.

“Better start over then.”  Dean points the camera.  “Go.”

“Hey Dad.  We’re okay.”  Sam smiles.  “The place got a little shaken up, but we still have water and enough food for a few days.  I…we can’t wait to see you.  Love you.”  

Dean nods and turns the camera on himself.  “John drop us a radio when you can.  This battery won’t last and we may need real-time comm if you have to cut us out of here.  See you soon.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

They clear a spot on the floor for the futon and tear it free from the metal beam.  They stuff it against a side of the container that isn’t pushing inward.  The shake out the sheets and pillows and make the bed.  They drag the cooler and food box close by and take a seat.  There is nothing to do but wait.

Sam prods Dean until he’s tucked comfortably against his side.  He’s determined to enjoy theses moments with his new lover regardless of their current circumstances.  

Dean snuggles in and heaves a satisfied sigh.  

Sam couldn’t be happier about it.

“So…”  Dean munches on a power bar.  “Tell me how you escaped when you were twelve.”

Sam shrugs.  “It’s no great mystery.”

“Yes it is.”  Dean replies.  “There’s nothing in the reports and your Dad said you made him ‘pinky swear’ that he wouldn’t ask you.”

“Right.”  Sam had forgotten about that.  “I didn’t want it in the records.”

“I get that.  No sense in giving you secret Ninja skills away.”

“Not Ninja.”  Sam snorts.  “Just plain old lock picking and survival.”  He smiles.  “Uncle Bobby taught me on the sly.”

“Your Dad figured as much.”

“Ya?”  Sam isn’t surprised.  “Bobby found me in the kennel you know.  The third time.”

“I know.  The one where that bitch took you to buy a present for your Dad’s birthday and then…”

“Stuffed me in the trunk and tied my to that stupid dog kennel instead.”

“I’m so sorry Sammy.”

“You know the worst part about that one?”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “The Pneumonia?”

“Okay.”  Sam chuckles.  “That was bad, but the worst part is I didn’t get a chance to buy the present I wanted for my Dad.”  He sighs.  “I missed his birthday entirely.”

“Sam.”  Dean grimaces.  “You were in the Hospital for three weeks.  Sick as a dog.  Your Dad just wanted you well man.”

“I know.”  Sam drops a kiss on the top of Dean’s head.  “I really wanted to get him that book though and she was so nice.  Dad really seemed to like her.  I guess that’s why the whole scheme worked.”

“They caught her and her accomplices though.”  Dean says.  “Recovered most of the money too.” 

“Ya.”  Sam shakes his head.  “Dad donated it to St Jude’s.  Did you know that?”

Dean shakes his head.

“He said paying the ransom saved my life and he wanted to save other kids with it too.”  Sam sighs.  “I remember the exact timber of Dad’s voice when he told me that.  Strange isn’t it?  What you lock away in your memories.”

“Ya Sammy.”  Dean takes Sam’s hand.  “I remember my Mom’s dress on the night they went out and never came back.”

“Dean…”  Sam’s heart aches at the loss he hears in Dean’s voice. 

“It was a long time ago Sam.”  Dean smiles sadly.  “Now anytime I see that shade of blue I can hear her laughing and Dad teasing her about being late.  They were so happy.  It’s a good memory.”

“I’m glad you have it.”

“Me too.”

Sam squeezes Dean’s hand.

Dean sighs.  “Okay…so found you and taught you how to escape.”

“Uncle Bobby found me because they wouldn’t let my Dad inside the building.”  Sam shakes his head.  “They told him it was too dangerous for civilians.”

“Whoa.”  Dean whistles.  “I’ll bet that went over well.”

“I know right?”  Sam laughs.  “He solved that by hiring his own recovery team and training with them.  They’re good too.  They help the locals out when they need pros.”

“So all the shooting up there were your Dad’s team?”  Dean shakes his head.  “I figured they were Bureau.”

“I’ll bet he only called Uncle Bobby because he’s…Uncle Bobby.”  Sam smiles proudly.  ‘I’ll bet Dad was right in the middle of it.”

“I have no doubt.”  

“After that third time Uncle Bobby started coming around the compound to help Dad set up his team.”  

“And private lessons for you?”

“Ya, but first I had to get well and then I had to get fit.”

Dean snorts.  “I can’t imagine you as a chubby twelve year-old.”  He grins.  “I mean I’ve seen the pictures, but you didn’t look like you Sam.”

“Good.”  Sam smiles and pulls Dean close.  “I work hard for this level of perfection.  Everyday in fact.”

Dean groans and elbows him in the ribs.  “You have no idea how hard it was to watch you like that every morning.  Bare chested.  You were killing man.”

“Oh…I can imagine.”  Sam can’t let that one go.  He reaches over and slides a hand down Dean’s chest.  “Same as having to watch you in those tight shirts and snug work out pants.  Showing all those Freshman your self-defense moves.”  He cups Dean’s bulge for good measure. 

“Son-of-a-Bitch!”

Sam gives him a gentle squeeze. 

“Tease.”  Dean growls and kisses him.

 A minute later the phone rings and they break apart.  

“We’re going to finish this later.”  Dean promises.

Sam blushes and shifts to ease the pressure.  He grins when Dean does the same.

“Shut-up Sammy.” 

“I didn’t say anything.”

Dean rolls his eyes and presses the button for their message.

“Boys thank God!”  John Winchester grins broadly.  “Good to know you’ll be okay for a few days.  The Engineers are working on a way to get you out.  That container you’re in is actually three of them stacked together so it makes things more complicated.  We’ve got a Rover heading your way with a radio.  It should be there soon.”  He nods.  “Take care of each other until then.”

“Well…”  Sam sighs.  “At least we know we’re all okay.”

“Yep.”  Dean grunts.  “So finish your story before I kick your ass.  I’ve been waiting a long time to hear it.”

“There’s not much to it.”  Sam chuckles.  “I learned to pick locks and handcuffs.  I took lessons in foraging, reconnaissance, map reading, topography, orienteering…”

“So basically escape and evade.”

“Right.”  Sam grins.  “Uncle Bobby brought all his old retired buddies over.  The guys who weren’t training or advising Dad would come by and teach me anything I wanted to know.”  

“Cool.”

Sam nods.  “When they took me from my room they zipped me in a giant duffle bag.”  He grimaces.  “There wasn’t much I could do about that, but when they let me out at the cabin and put me in that cell the didn’t bother to check me for lock picks.”

“Why would they?”  Dean grins.  “You were just a spoiled rich kid.”

Sam laughs.  

“Who was out of that cage in two seconds flat I’ll bet.”  Dean adds.

“I waited until they were asleep.”  

“And?”

“I got the Hell out of there.”

“Damn Sammy.”  Dean smiles proudly.  “You were so brave and you make it sound so simple.”

“It was.”  Sam insists.  “I had the skills and the tools.  Anyone could have done it.”

“Right.”  Dean scoffs.  “How many twelve year-olds carry a lock pick?”

“I slept with it in my hair.”  Sam tells him.  “I still do.”  He takes Dean’s fingers and rubs them across crown of his head.  

Dean touches the thin metal.  “You’re amazing.”    

 


	14. Chapter 14

“How did you end up watching me?”  Sam asks.  

They’re stretched out on their backs now watching the roof for signs of the Rover.

Dean’s stomach tightens in response.  He’s been waiting for this question.

“Well…”  He takes a deep breath and dives in.  “My folks died when I was sixteen.  They went out for a night on the town and were killed in a freeway pile up on the way home.”

Sam squeezes his hand.

“It was just one of those things you know.”  Dean presses on.  “A junk truck blew a tire and threw scrap metal all over the road and a Semi-trailer couldn’t stop in time so…his tires blew too and his trailer rolled.” 

“Jesus.  I’m sorry Dean.”

“It took out three cars and a bus full of High School Football players on their way home from and away game.”  Dean sighs.  “There were seven people killed including my folks and a dozen kids hurt bad.”

Sam rolls toward him and puts his head on Dean’s chest.  

Dean drapes his arm around Sam and takes a minute to marvel at how good it feels. 

“It made National News for a little while.”  Dean swallows.  “Until something bigger came along.”

“Sorry.”  Sam pats his chest.  “I know what its like to have the Media steal your privacy.”

Dean sucks in a shaky breath.  “You were the ‘something bigger’  Sammy.”

“What?”  Sam jerks his head up.

“You and the third kidnapping and your little Houdini routine.”

“No Shit?”  

“Ya.”  

“Well I’m glad I could help out.”  Sam says dryly. 

Dean blurts a laugh and raises an eyebrow at the wonderful man in his arms.

Sam gives him a quick kiss.  “Tell me the rest.” 

“I went to live with my Great Aunt Susan on her farm.”  Dean smiles.  “She was awesome.”

“Is she still around?”

“No.”  Dean shakes his head.  “She died while I was in college.”  

“I’m sorry.  Do you still have the farm?”

“Ya.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“Sure Sammy.”  

Sam lifts his head for another kiss. 

Dean automatically bends and obliges.  He could get used to this.

“What else.” 

“Well…”  Dean sighs and goes with the truth.  “I couldn’t really cope with losing them you know?  So when your kidnapping came along and the Media went after your story I was relieved.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  Sam sighs.  “I’m glad my story did some good.”

“I was hooked on your case.”  Dean tells him.  “I read all the reports and theories and spent hours speculating about motives and ‘what ifs’.”  He shrugs.  “When I found the Impala and started fixing her up I shifted gears, but I never really stopped obsessing over your case.”  He heaves a sigh.  “Or you.”

“Dean you’re not the first person to obsess about my case.”  Sam says matter-of-fact.  “Or me.”

“I know, but Sammy this…”  Dean waves a hand between them.  “This kind of makes my obsession that much more twisted doesn’t it?” 

Sam sits up and gives Dean a look.  “Then doesn’t that make me twisted too?”

“No.”  Dean growls.

“How so?”

“You’re innocent in this.”  Dean insists.  “I’ve read all your files Sam.  I’ve studied you and your case and worse I’m being paid to watch you.”  He drops his eyes.  “You’re just you and you deserve better then that.”

“Okay so you’ve been obsessed with my case.”  Sam waves a hand.  “Millions of people have been and still are.  So what?  It’s an interesting story.  Full of drama and intrigue and I was pretty darn cute in those days.”

“Jesus Sam…”  Dean shakes his head.  “I should have been able to keep this professional.”

“Then why didn’t you?”  Sam asks.  “You could have stopped watching me every morning.  You could have comforted me a few minutes ago without…”  He shrugs helplessly.  “Doing that.”

“Your right.”  Dean’s stomach roils.  “I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit!”  Sam growls.  “Don’t you apologize for that.  I wanted to be wanted by you and I still do.”  He glares.  “Let’s be very clear.  We are good together okay?  I could give a Shit how it came to be.  It’s good Dean.”

“Sam I…”

“No.”  Sam sits up and crosses his arms.  “So your interest in me started out as a way to block your own pain.  Fine.  I get that.  Then you found something in my case that made you want to be an agent…to work in Behavioral Science.  Right?”

Dean nods.  

“Good.  You are great at it Dean.  The world is a better place because you help find those sickos and you’ve closed dozens of ‘Cold Cases’ too.”

“What?”  Dean frowns in confusion.

“I follow your work.”  Sam tells him.  “I’ve read your book.  I’ve even seen your lectures.”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Ya.  I have a friend in the Media department and whenever you record a new one for the Bureau he sends me a copy.  I’ve even read the draft of your next book.  How do you think I knew you needed interviews?”

Dean stares at him stunned.

“You have a banana and coffee every morning.”  Sam says.  

Dean blinks. 

“I look too.”  Sam grins.  “Especially when you wash Baby.  Every Sunday morning first thing before the Sun even comes out.”

“You’re supposed to sleep in on Sundays Sam.”  Dean grumbles.

“Not with you out there shirtless.”  Sam snorts.  “You should see some of the photos I have of you.  I could sell them in a heartbeat you are that gorgeous.”

Dean flushes.

Sam laughs.  “Now who’s the obsessive one?”

“Jesus Sammy.”  Dean reaches for him.  “We’re quite the pair.”

“Are you done with your little melt down?”  He gives Dean and evil grin.  “Princess.”

“Shut-up Sam.”

“Dean.  You’ve been beating yourself up about wanting someone who maybe couldn’t or wouldn’t want you back.”  Sam says softly.  “You have tied yourself up in knots over it and it doesn’t matter anymore.  I want you too.”

“Sam…”

“Dean…”  Sam chuckles.  “The minute we met things changed.”

“It’s only been a few hours Sammy.”   Dean tries one more time.  “When we get out of here we’ll reassess.”  

“If you insist.”  Sam sighs.  “But I know you now and you know me.  Not totally, but its enough.”

Dean sighs.  He wants to argue, but he can’t.  Not when Sam is looking at him the way he’s always wanted him to.  Not when Sam is warm, clear eyed, and so confident.

“I bow to your judgement.”  Dean says finally.

Sam snorts and settles back into Dean’s embrace.  “Remember you said that later when you decide I’m too bossy.”

“Okay.”  Dean chuckles. 

“So did Dad hire you straight up or did Uncle Bobby have something to do with it?”

“Director Singer made an appointment for me with your Dad.”

“And you helped my Dad kill me.”  

“Ya.”  Dean nods.  “It was his idea and he asked me to come up with a plan.”

“It was good.” 

“I’m glad it worked.”

“And the watching?”

“He couldn’t send you out here alone Sammy.  You know that.”

“So he asked you to kill me and watch me for four years?”

“Basically.”

“You just gave up your career?  Just like that?”

“Not completely.”  Dean scowls.  “You know I keep busy.”

“Why did you take the job Dean?”

“Like I said I was obsessed with your case.”

“And?”

Dean huffs.  

Sam chuckles.  

“I wanted a chance to protect you.  Okay?.”  Dean blurts and shocks himself.  “I always felt like I had a connection to you.  I still can’t explain it, but there it is.”

“Okay.”  Sam accepts his confession without question.  “What were you going to do when I graduated?”

“I don’t know.”  Dean admits.  “Part of me was hoping you’d find a girl or guy at the last minute.”

“Huh?”

“That way I could walk away from you knowing you were happy.”  Dean grimaces.  “You being happy might have been enough.”

“Enough for you to let me go?”

“Ya.”

“Right.”  Sam shakes his head.  

Dean frowns.  “It might have worked.”

“No Dean.”  

“You don’t know that.”

“I wouldn’t have brought anyone home.”  Sam says.  “Not when I’d been planning to seduce you for years.”

“What!” Dean’s brain spins.

“Yes.”  Sam chuckles.  “I was going to march right over to your place and knock on the door.”

“Jesus.”  Dean blows out a breath.  “Just like that?”

“I would have demanded entry.”  Sam grins.  “Our maybe just flashed you.”

Dean groans.  

“I bought a trench coat and everything.”

“Oh my God.” 

“I’m guessing that would have totally freaked you out.” 

Dean swallows hard.  “Totally.”

“Well…”  Sam laughs.  “One of us had to make the first move.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

“How did you know I’d been taken?”  Sam has been wondering about that since the minute Dean grinned down at him from the hatch.

“You didn’t come home.”  Dean says simply.

“How did that signal abduction?”

“Sammy…”  Dean chuckles.  “For certain things you’re like clock work.”  He squeezes Sam’s shoulder.  “Your morning exercises…your three hours in the library on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays…your two cups of coffee in the morning…salads at lunch…”

“Okay…okay.”  Sam rolls his eyes. 

“And…your Friday nights at ‘Cafe Jazz’.”  Dean shakes his head.  “Always home just before Midnight.”

“I vary my travel.”  Sam says defensively.

“That’s good.”  Dean says.  “But…there are only so many ways to get to your apartment.  When the bus drove by the stop at the end of our street I figured you were taking a cab.  When the clock clicked past Midnight I went looking.”

“What did you find?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Nope.”

“They took you at the bus stop.”  Dean tells him.  “I had Ash hack into the surveillance cameras at the bank across the street.”

Sam rubs the back of his neck.  “It had to be a dart or something long distance.  I would have sensed them if they got too close.”

“It was a dart.”

“Those two lovers at the bus stop?”

“Yep.”

“Damn it.”  Sam feels like kicking his own ass.  “Situational Awareness 101.”

“It’s been four years Sam.”  Dean says soothingly.  “You’ve been dead and buried.  No one has even come close to recognizing you.”  He snorts runs a hand through Sam’s hair.  “Not with this mop anyway.”  

“Shut-up.”  Sam pokes him in the ribs.

Dean grunts.  “The point is anyone would have let their guard down by now Sammy.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’m not living in true freedom for the first time.”  Dean replies.  “You’ve done a great job looking out for yourself.  Hell you never even needed me.  Not once.”

“It only takes once.”  Sam can’t believe he turned his back on strangers at the bus stop.  He’d dismissed them as a threat and looked up at the stars.  The next thing he knew he was here in the container.

“Ya…well the bigger question is who is this guy?  He took you again after all this time.  How did he even know you weren’t killed in that car accident?”

“Shit.”  Sam shakes his head.  “Who knows?”

Dean pulls him close.  “Your Dad will figure it out.” 

“I hope so.”  Sam sighs.  “I don’t want us to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.”

“We won’t.”  Dean says confidently.

Sam nods.  His Dad won’t rest now that he has someone in his sights.  It’ll only be a matter of time.

“Did you hear that?”  Dean asks.

“The whistling?” 

“Yep.”

Sam grins.  “It’s the Rover.” 

They watch the ceiling and listen.  The whistling gets closer.  Eventually it stops and they hear tapping on the metal roof.  They both stare at the ceiling.

A spark appears followed by a red hot line of molten metal.  A circle quickly takes shape and in seconds a round plate breaks away and drops to the floor.  

Sam jumps to his feet and searches the dark space behind the cutout.  

“What are we looking for?”  Dean gets to his feet and moves to stand beside him.

“The Rover has multiple appendages.”  Sam explains.  “It’s probably switching out the blow torch arm for a camera arm.”

A few seconds later a metal appendage with a small camera lens mounted on the end peaks inside the container.

“Hey Ash!”  Sam calls out and waves.

The camera nods up and down accompanied by a cheery whistle.  

Dean chuckles.

A second metal arm pokes through the hole.  This one has a canvas bundle clasped in a metal claw.  The claw releases the bag and it slowly lowers. 

“Cool.”  Dean grins.

“I helped Ash build the Rover when I was sixteen.”  Sam smiles at the memories.  “He wanted to perfect a few ideas before they started to build prototypes for SWAT and the military.”

“I didn’t know you were into tech.”

“It’s not my thing.”  Sam shrugs.  “But I never turned down a chance to work with Ash on anything.”

“He’s something else.”

“Ya.”  Sam sighs.  “He always made being stuck in the compound a whole lot better.”

Dean scowls.  “I can only imagine.”

“Don’t worry.”  Sam grins.  “He never did any of his mind bending stuff around me.  Dad would have killed him.”

“True.”  Dean snorts.

Sam reaches up and catches the canvas bag.  He disconnects it from the thin wire and lets it go.  

The Rover reels the wire back up.

Sam opens the bag and pulls out the radio.  He hands it to Dean.

Dean turns it on he keys the mic.  “Check…Check…radio check.”  

“Loud and clear.” 

Sam grins. 

Dean flashes him one of those killer grins.  “You better say ‘Hi’.”

Sam sucks in a breath and takes the radio.  It shakes in his hand.

“Easy baby.”  Dean says softly.  “Here I’ll do it.  You just say what you want to say.”

Sam swallows hard and nods.

Dean keys the mic. “Go ahead.” 

“Dad?”

“Sam?”  John’s voice fills the container.  “You doing alright Son?”

“Ya…ya Dad.”  Sam sniffs and wipes his eyes.  

Dean reaches out and touches him lightly on the cheek.  “Let him see you too.”

Sam blinks and looks up at the camera.  

“You two look like you’re doing oaky for now.”  John clears his throat.  “Do you need anything?”

Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Good.”  John says.  “We’re going to review Rover’s film and see what the Engineers think about getting in there to get you two out.”

Dean presses the radio into his hand and Sam clicks the mic.  “Okay Dad.” 

“Meanwhile.”  John sighs  “Do you think you can stick it out for a few more hours?”

Sam raises an eyebrow at Dean who blushes.  “No problem.”  

“Great.  See you soon boys.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

Dean buries his hands in Sam’s hair and pulls him down for a kiss.  He’s still afraid this won’t last, but he can’t refuse Sam.

Sam melts against.  

Dean moans and spreads his legs in invitation.

Sam chuckles and slides his hand under the waistband of Dean’s pants.  “I can’t wait to get totally naked with you someday.”  

“I know.”  Dean groans and thrust into Sam’s impossibly large hand.  “Jesus Sammy…”  He fumbles his way past Sam’s belt and finds what he’s looking for.  He squeezes and strokes. 

Sam moans and moves in his grip.  “I want a real bed and…a shower too.”

“And lube.”  Dean pants.  

“Ya.”  Sam grins.  “Sounds like a plan.” 

“Maybe we can…”  Dean licks his lips.  “Figure out how to do this…without ruining our boxers.”  

“Right now that requires restraint I don’t have.”  Sam shakes his head.  “Not with you.”

“Then don’t stop Sammy.”  Dean begs.  

Sam chuckles low in his throat.  He bends down and whisper in Dean’s ear.  “Do you know how many times I’ve watched you washing your Baby?”  He laves at Dean’s neck.  “How many times I thought about bending you over the hood…licking my way down your spine.  Finding your center and opening you up with my tongue?”

“Fuck Sam!”  Dean bites out.  

“You would beg me.”  Sam grunts and thrusts against him.  “Beg me to take you…harder…faster…”

“Shit ya!”  Dean confesses.  “I would beg you baby.”

“Did you think about me?”

“You know I watched your morning work outs.”  Dean pulls him down and licks his ear.  “Those tight little shorts Sammy Jesus.”  He groans.  “I’d think about slipping under you when you were doing your push-up.  I’d lift my legs up and wrap them around your waist.”  He bites Sam’s neck and he cries out.  “I’d be slick and ready for you so you could just push into me…”

“Holy Shit Dean!”  Sam strokes him, almost frantic.  He twists his wrist and rubs the tip of Dean’s cock against his palm. 

Dean attacks Sam’s mouth and blindly returns the favor.  In seconds their both gone.

“That was amazing.”  Sam sprawls onto his back and sighs.  “Please tell me we’ll do this and those two things and a million others ASAP.”

“My fantasy first.”  Dean grins and wipes them both up.  “You knew I was looking so that makes you a tease.”

Sam chuckles and yawns.  “Deal.”

Dean pulls him close and in minutes Sam is snoring softly.

He sighs heavily.  He knows Sam will need time and distance to sort out the abduction, the revelation that he’s been watched all this time, and this thing between them.  He also knows that if Sam decides this thing they’ve started is nuts then he’s going to have to give him up.  Simple as that. 

He’s still starring at the ceiling when the radio crackles.

“Sam…Dean…you there boys?”  John Winchester sounds as calm as ever.

“Here John.”  Dean replies.  He pokes Sam who stirs and yawns.

“The Engineers won’t let us get any heavy equipment in close.”  John grumbles.  “They think the vibrations will bring the whole building down.”

“Okay.”  Dean says.  “So you dig us out by hand.  We can sit it out down here for a few more days if we need to.”

Sam squeezes Dean’s hand and nods.

“That’s just it.”  John sighs heavily.  “The Engineers also think if we disturb too much of the debris it will destabilize and bring more down on your container.”

Dean frowns.  

“The Engineers aren’t sure if the containers can withstand another direct hit.  They’re stacked and welded together, but a quick look shows more then a few broken welds.”

“What’s the plan then?”  Dean asks.

“We’re sending the Rover back in to cut a chunk out of the roof large enough for you two to slip through.” 

“Okay.  The Rover will have to drop us some climbing gear.”  Dean tells him.  “The walls in here are a slick as an ice rink.”

“Noted.”  John replies.  “We’ll open your escape route at the same place Rover was last time.  It’s the only path out from under all the debris.”

“Got it.”

“Rover is already on the way.”  

Dean tucks the radio into his front pocket and slaps Sam’s knee.  “Let’s get ready to go Sammy.”  He stands.  “Anything you want to take with you?” 

“The book.”  

Dean nods.  It only takes them a few minutes to find it.  

Sam tucks it into a pocket on his vest without a word.

“You any good at climbing?” 

“Nope.”  Sam grins.  

“Me neither.” Dean sighs and looks at the distance from floor to ceiling.  “It looks higher then it did when I dropped in.”

“It was a pretty great fall though.”  Sam teases.

Dean raises an eyebrow.  “Oh ya?”  

“I’d have given you a five…at least.”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “Everyone’s a critic.”

Sam chuckles and reaches for his hand.  

“Stand back.”  John directs from the radio.  “Cutting in three…two…one.”

They step away from the opening and press their backs to the opposite wall.  

The torch quickly shapes a much larger hole in the ceiling.  This time the metal crashes to the floor with a bang.  

The Rover camera peaks inside for a quick look and a friendly whistle before it retreats.  

“What?”  Dean calls after it.  “No rope?”

“What the Hell do you need rope for boy?”  Bobby Singer growls. 

“Uncle Bobby!”  Sam shouts in surprise.

“Hey there Sam.”  Bobby shakes his head.  “Damn boy you got tall didn’t ya.”

Sam blushes and grins. 

Bobby surveys the container and pins them with a look.  “I’m disappointed in you two you know.”  

Dean automatically looks down at their joined hands and flushes with guilt.  He glances at Sam, but he’s glaring at Bobby.  He straightens his shoulders and glares upward too.  Whatever Bobby has to say he won’t let Sam face it alone.

“One of the smartest agents I ever employed and the greatest escape artist this side of the Rockies.”  Bobby tisk-tisks.  “Damn it if you ain’t still stuck in this container.”  He sniffs disdainfully.  “I can’t believe you boys couldn’t bust out of this joint yet.  Slackers!”

Dean gapes.

Sam laughs and squeezes his hand.  “Knock it off Uncle Bobby and get us out of here!”

“Ya.”  John grouses and leans into the container.  “I’m sure the boys have had enough of this low rent flop house and your teasing old man.”

“Definitely.”  Sam smiles up at his Dad.

“Damn.”  John smiles.  “It’s good to see you two in person.”

“You too Dad.”

“John…Bobby.”  Dean tries to appear nonchalant.  “Good to see you both again.”

“Well…let’s get you two out of…wait a minute.”  John frowns and waves a hand.  “How long has this been going on?” 

Sam blushes and looks down at his feet.

Dean tightens his fingers and tugs until Sam looks at him.  “You okay?”  

It’s one thing if Sam decides this isn’t going to work out, but Damn it if Dean will let anyone else make that choice for them. 

“Dean…”  Sam licks his lips nervously.  “I just…he’s my Dad…and I…”  He shrugs helplessly.

“Sammy.”  Dean swallows hard.  “It’s okay.”  He lets go of Sam’s hand.  “I told you it will always be your choice.  I meant it.”

“It’s not that.”  Sam huffs and rolls his eyes.  “My Dad doesn’t know I’m Gay.”

Dean blinks. 

“Well he does now boy.”  Bobby chuckles from above.

Dean ignores the two men peering down on them with interest and pulls Sam into his arms.  He hugs him close for a long moment and then reluctantly pulls away.  He steps back. 

“Your Dad and Uncle Bobby don’t care if your Gay Sam.”  Dean says.  

“I know.”  Sam huffs.  “I just forgot I hadn’t told him or Uncle Bobby yet.  That’s all.”

“That’s not all Sam.”  Dean grimaces.  “It’s one thing to be Gay it’s another to be with me.  They’re going to care a lot if they think I’m an obsessive creeper who’s taken advantage of you.”  

“Dean.”  Sam grabs his hand.  “I thought we’d already established that you’re not an ‘obsessive creeper’.  They’re not going to think that.”

“Ya boy.  What makes you think we think you’re a creeper?”  Bobby asks.  

Dean looks up in confusion.  “You both know I obsessed over this case.”

“Boy you ain’t a creeper.”  Bobby calls down.  “If you were you’d have never made it through the Bureau’s Psych Evaluations.”

“Yep.”  John agrees.  “That and I saw your character the first time we met Son.  Heard it in your voice.  You’re a good man Dean.  I’ve had no reason to question that.”

“But…” 

Bobby and John look at each other and shrug.  

“It’s one reason I picked you boy.”  Bobby notes.  “I told you I didn’t pick your name out of no hat.”

“It’s one reason I hired you too.”  John says matter-of-fact.  “You knew the case.  You knew the motives…everything.  Plus…”  He shrugs and grins.  “You wanted to kick my ass for paying that ransom.”  His eyes gleam.  “No one else had the balls to say that to my face.  Well, besides Bobby here…”

“Damn right ya Idjit!”  

John snorts and waves him off.  He looks down at Dean.  “No one else cared enough to be angry on a little boy’s behalf either.”  He smiles gently.  “I know you felt some sort of connection to my Son and frankly I wanted someone looking after Sam who gave a Damn about him.”

Dean has no response for that.  He has no idea what to say or do now.

Sam tugs on his hand and Dean turns to him.    

“There’s no way I’m letting you go Dean.”  Sam smiles.  “You’re my obsession too…remember?”

Dean stares at him and nods dumbly.

“Say you’ll stay with me and we’ll have our road trip while Dad and Uncle Bobby hunt down the guy that took me…twice.”

“And kick his ass!”  Bobby growls.

“Damn right.”  John echoes.

Dean sets his jaw.  Someone has to be rational about this. 

Sam raises his eyebrow and waits.

“Fine!”  Dean huffs.  “We’ll take your road trip.”  

He knows he’s being a jerk.  He just can’t seem to stop himself.  He wants this so badly, but he’s practical enough to know it could all fall apart the minute they’re leave this container even if Sam isn’t.

“Don’t you dare back out on me.”  Sam warns.

Dean takes a deep breath.  “I’m yours Sammy.”  He pledges.  “For as long as you want me.  Are you happy now?”

Sam narrows his eyes.  He grabs Dean and kisses him hard and possessive.  It leaves Dean breathless and weak at the knees.  

“Well I’m glad we got that settled.”  Bobby snarks.  

“For the record…”  John grins down at them.  “We don’t care that you’re Gay Son.”

“Thanks Dad.”  Sam grins back.  

“Or that Dean is sort of obsessive about you.”

Dean blushes.  “Jesus John.”

“We do expect Grandkids though.”  John flicks a glance at Bobby.

“I like the sound of that.”  Bobby grins and drops a rope. 

 


	17. Epilogue

Five years laster….

“Are you ready?”  Sam turns and smiles at Dean.  

He looks so handsome in his black suit.  He looks absolutely terrified too.  There’s no trace of the confident and cocky man he knows and loves so well.

“Ya Sammy.”  Dean swallows hard and nods.  

Sam suppresses a grin.  “You sure?”

“What?”  Dean frowns.  “Who said I wasn’t?” 

“Dean.”  Sam tugs his hand and wraps his arms around him.

Dean sighs and tucks his head under Sam’s chin.  

“What are you worried about baby?”  Sam prods.  

Dean mumbles something into his chest.

“What?”

“Everything?”  Dean huffs.  

“Dean…”  Sam chuckles.  “We’re going to be fine.”

“How come you’re so Damn sure?”  Dean grumbles.

“Because I haven’t doubted us for a minute.”  Sam bends and kisses him lightly.  “Not in that container.”  He kisses him again.  “Not even when you made us take ‘a break’ for two months…”

Dean huffs.  “It was 57 says.” 

“Longest 57 days of my life.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.”  Sam grins.  “I didn’t doubt us when we set sail on our cross country adventure either.”  He chuckles.  “Though I’ll admit I didn’t know what I was getting into when I insisted on that road trip.”

“Hey Baby is a smooth ride.” 

“Nothing in smooth after seven months.”  Sam teases.  “I swear my ass still has callouses.”

“You asked for it.”

“It was the trip of a lifetime Dean.”  Sam tells him.  “You and me…it was wonderful.”   

“Love you so much Sammy.”

“I love you too baby.”  Sam sighs.  “There’s nothing to worry about.  If we don’t have any doubts about each other we have no reason to have doubts about becoming parents.  Okay?”

Dean nods. 

Sam sighs.  “You’ve been Dean Campbell, highly respected Behavioral Scientist, published author, and Bureau consultant for a while now.”

“And you’ve been Sam Campbell, award winning photographer, and bossy homemaker.”

“Right.”  Sam is so proud of the life they’ve built together.  “No judge in their right mind would deny us custody.”

“That’s not it Sam.”  Dean looks up at him with worried eyes.  “When we make this legal the kids will be connected to us forever.”  He frowns.  “Right now no one knows who they are.  They’re safely anonymous.  What if someone figures it out and decides its worth it to try for the money?”

“No.”  Sam squeezes him tight.  “No one is going to takes our kids from us.  Ever.”

“Sammy…”

“No one will connect us to the Winchester fortune.”  Sam says with confidence.  “When Sam Winchester died, John Winchester retired and disappeared.  No one has seen him for almost a decade.”  He insists.  “There’s no way anyone will connect the grey haired Grandpa that lives out in our barn to a reclusive Billionaire that, rumor has it lives, on some private island somewhere.”   

Dean snorts.

“Besides…”  Sam grins.  “If someone is dumb enough to go after our kids then…”

“They’ll be Hell to pay.”  John says matter-of-fact.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hey John.”

“Boys.”  John smiles.  “What’s all the fuss about?  Aren’t you here to become Dads so that me and this old man can become Grandpas?  Officially?”

“What’s going on?”  Bobby walks up and adjusts his hat.  “Are these two Idjits getting cold feet?”

“Better not be.”  John warns.  “I like being a Grandpa.”

“Me too.”  Bobby crosses his arms.  “We ain’t given these kids up are we?  Not after all we’ve been through to keep them siblings together.”  

Sam shakes his head and looks at Dean.  

Dean takes a deep breath and nods firmly.  “No we’re not.”

“Good.”  John claps a hand on their shoulders.  “Don’t worry about their safety boys.  We took care of that nut who took Sam years ago and…”  He grins.  “We’ll both be there to help you look out for them.”

Sam blinks in surprise. 

“Yep.”  Bobby nods his support.  “I’m moving into barn’s second bedroom.”

“Great.”  Dean rolls his eyes.  “Just what we need…another full-time parenting opinion.”

“Hey.”  John chuckles.  “He’s at the farm all the Damn time anyway.”

“I’d worry more about how busy you two are going to be when you finally get this brood home for good then how much crap two old widowers can give ya.”  Bobby chuckles.  “You’re going to be busier then a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

“Yep.”  John grins an shakes his head.  “Five munchkins is a lot to take on at once.”  

Sam pales and his hands start to shake.  

“No way Sammy.”  Dean pokes him in the chest and glares.  “Only one of us gets to freak out at once.”

“Right.”  Sam takes a deep breath and blows it out slow.  “I’m good.  We’re good.”  

“Okay.”  Dean straightens his shoulders and takes a deep breath.  “Let’s do this.”

DONE 

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!  
Thank you Kripke and Co., J2, the Writers and Staff for bringing Supernatural to life.


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